


Stepping Into The Unknown

by IncompleteStories



Series: When You're Ready [2]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/M, First Relationship, Friendship/Love, Romance, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-04
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-23 15:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 23,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/623727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncompleteStories/pseuds/IncompleteStories
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Daily Morning Routine. </p>
<p>There are some people who just make their way into your life without you even noticing, and then one day, you realize they've been there all along and you wouldn't have it any other way. </p>
<p>Eventual Reid/OFC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One of Those Days

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This takes place after Daily Morning Routine. Follows the case-line starting with About Face.
> 
> I do not own Criminal Minds or Dr. Spencer Reid. I do own Michelle and the other original characters, though.

Everyone has them, those mornings when, somehow, one can just tell the day isn't going to go their way. For the young Dr. Reid, it's the morning after the team's first case with Agent Rossi. Tuesdays are normally slow at the Java Tree Café and it has become a day that he started looking forward to because they get to talk.

As Reid walks in, he's racking his brain for possible conversation starters, he always gets tongue tied by the time he arrives at the front of the line. He doesn't even look up until he hears a male's voice asking him what he wants. For a second he wonders if he walked into the wrong shop by mistake, he stares blankly at the acne-ridden youth on the other side of the counter.

"Hey, buddy, what do you want? I've got other people waiting."

"Oh, err, yes. Sorry. Large black coffee and a raspberry scone, please. Also, would you happen to know where the girl who normally works this shift is? Her name's Michelle? Short black hair? Wears glasses and..."

"I know who she is. No idea where she is, all I know is I have to cover this stupid shift for her. Next!"

Spencer pays, takes his order and walks out heading for the subway station, trying to figure out what just happened. Surely Michelle would have mentioned it if she was leaving her job, they are friendly acquaintances after all and she wouldn't just leave her favorite customer as she calls him. For a moment, he worries about what might have happened, he knows that his line of work often leads him to expect the worst, but he's probably wrong; after all, the chances of being victim of a violent crime in DC are 1 in 75. This thought process follows him all the way into the train; he takes a bite of his scone only to realize that it is not a raspberry pastry but apricot. It is definitely not his morning.


	2. Cereals and Frozen Dinners

Once again the team's work day extended far longer than expected, the case they were called on was rather simple; three women who disappeared ten months apart from each other were found in shallow graves in a nursery, all three wearing similar wedding dresses and a fourth one matching the UnSub's type was also missing. They discovered that the Unsub used dating sites to lure his victims in and would poison them on their wedding night. Luckily for them, they managed to save the last victim and catch the UnSub alive, only to learn about five other victims...

After a day like that, the serenity of the 24hrs market is quite soothing to the tired, young genius, who feels quite fortunate that very few people seem to run their errands past 11pm. He stands in the cereals aisle, holding a box of Lucky Charms in one hand and Frosted Flakes in the other and weighs both options; Lucky Charms has the little marshmallows but Frosted Flakes have sugar on all the cereals, so if he's going to have to go without the glucose provided by his usual raspberry scone, which one would be the closest in sugar content.

"Doctor?"

He jumps at the unexpected voice, dropping both boxes. They both bend down to pick up the items and it takes Spencer half a second to realize that he knows that voice, but the person in front of him looks different than usual. The same black hair and glasses are present, but he normally barely sees the hair under the Java Tree cap of her uniform, and the vibrant purple knit shirt she has on is very much at odds with the black polo shirt and apron combo he sees her in most of the time. She picks up both boxes and apologizes for startling him, as she stands he sees her wince a little and his worries that something bad happened to her are suddenly back.

They stand face to face for a second, neither of them talking, he wants to ask her if she's alright or tell her that it's good to see her, but instead, his mouth decides to rebel against his brain and he simply blurts out.

"Have you always been that short? You seem taller at work."

She stares at him for a second, as he mentally kicks himself, a smile creeps to her lips and suddenly she's laughing. He tries to ignore the little pull inside his heart that her laughter causes while trying to figure out if she's laughing at him or not. She puts her hand to her mouth and takes a moment.

"Yes, I've always been that short. There's a platform behind the counter at work that adds a good three inches so we can see the room even if there's a line of customers..."

"You weren't at the Java Tree this morning." He interrupts her, without really meaning to, which seems happen more often than not in both his professional and personal life.

"Yeah, I had to get my appendix removed over the weekend, won't be able to work for at least another week. I hope you won't miss me too much... I mean, 'you' the customers, of course."

Spencer puts one of the cereal boxes in his cart without paying much attention to which one it is. Somehow, instinctively, they start walking through the market together, she asks him what he's doing there that late and tells her a bit about the case they just finished without going into the details. When they first started talking in the mornings, she asked him about what he did for a living and for a little while he give her somewhat graphic summaries of the cases they worked on, until one day when she asked him to stop because it was giving her nightmares. They make their way through the store slowly, Michelle just finished a book he recommended to her about two weeks ago and they debate the actions of the hero. In the frozen food aisle, he helps her get some of the single portion meals that she can't reach due to her stitches. He comments about how frozen entrées are most expansive and less nourishing than their fresh counterparts and she admits that she "can't cook to save her life." Finally, they head toward the only opened checkout line, where the cashier assumes they are together as she scans Spencer's Frosted Flakes and Michelle's frozen carbonara pasta until they both interject at the same time. He waits as she pays and offers to carry her bags.

"I'm fine, thank you." She smiles as they head outside. "It was really nice bumping into you, Doctor."

"You know, you can call me Spencer." He blushes a bit, very glad that it probably isn't too visible in the dark.

"Well then, good night Spencer." She turns around and heading toward the intersection, he watches her for a moment before starting to walk away himself. A few second later, he turns around as he hears his name called; she's heading back toward him with a determined look on her face.

"I was wondering, would you... maybe... like to get a coffee sometime?"

"I get coffee every day..."

"I meant together. Would you like to get a coffee together sometime?"

He just stares dumbfounded for a second, why is his mouth so dry suddenly? He passes his hand through his hair and nods, not trusting his voice at the moment. He takes a breath before answering.

"Yes. I would like that very much."

She bites her bottom lip as she smiles, her cheeks reddening too. She asks for his phone number and he gives her his one of his cards, she then asks for a second card and writes down hers.

Reid isn't sure how he's made it back to his apartment, he puts his groceries on the kitchen counter and sits next to them. He takes the tiny piece of paper out his pocket and gently runs his fingertip over it.

Somehow, tonight, he, Dr. Spencer Reid, got a girl's number.


	3. Cold Night Air

Reid walks out of the hospital and leans against to wall, trying to clear his head. He thinks to himself that this can't be happening, that can't be right, as he passes his fingers through his hair. He takes deep breaths of the cold night air and tries to calm himself. The others are still inside, but he needed to be alone for a moment. How could anyone do something so horrible to someone so nice? Despite what they see day in and day out, this is different; it's someone he knows, someone he sees everyday, someone who's part of his life.

He rests his head against the brick wall and his hands find their way into his pockets; his fingers come in contact with a piece of textured paper. He doesn't remember putting the card into his pocket, but there it is in the palm of his hand. He already knows the number on the back by heart, eidetic memory has its advantages after all. Like in a daze he reaches for his phone and dials, not taking into account the late hour or the fact that this probably isn't why she gave him her number in the first place. The ringing brings him back to reality and he's about to hang up when a sleepy voice comes on the line.

"...Hello?" He definitely had not thought that plan through. "Hello? Is there anyone there?"

"Err... Hi Michelle, it's Spencer... you know from the coffee shop? I'm not exactly sure why I'm calling you... and also, sorry for the late hour... I hadn't realized... Sorry... You were probably asleep..." He can tell he's rambling, and probably not making any sense when she speaks up.

"Are you okay? You sound really shaken." The concern in her voice is unmistakable.

"A friend of mine... a member of our team..." He stops to take a breath, somehow telling someone else about it, make it feel more real. He adds in a whisper. "...she got shot tonight."

"Is she gonna be alright?"

"The doctor says she should be able to go home in a few days. I just can't believe someone would do that to her." He stops himself before starting to ramble about how Garcia should be a low risk target for such a crime and therefore, it's illogical that someone should have taken the chance to attack her just to steal her purse. "As I said, I'm not sure why I called you. I apologize."

He passes his free hand through his hair, pulling at it a little, mentally kicking himself again from dialing that number.

"Hey, don't worry about it. That's what friends are for right? Helping through bad times."

He can be barely believe what he's hearing. He lets out a sigh of relief before thanking her and apologizing again. She tells him that if he needs to talk, to feel free to call and maybe they can met somewhere. He wishes her a good night, she tells him she wishes for his friend to be back on her feet promptly and that, despite how cliché it must sound, she's certain everything will turn out alright. He hangs up and looks up at the night sky, he knows stars are simply massive, luminous balls of plasma held together by gravity and that some of the ones he can see are already dead or dying; his thoughts drift back Penelope in that hospital bed, he imagines she would tell him to stop ruining their beauty with such sad facts.

He pushes himself off the wall, and walks back inside feeling a little calmer. He sits by J.J. and looks around at the rest of his team, his family, and he can't help but think that maybe what she said is true; maybe everything will turn out alright. Penelope will be okay, and they will find the person who dared attack one of their own!


	4. Distraction

He sits in the back of the vehicle with J.J. as Morgan drives Garcia back to the hospital, the death of the UnSub was unfortunate turn of event, but everyone made it out safely and at the end of the day that all one can really focus on. He's looking past the beautiful blonde next to him and out the window, not really paying much attention to what is being discussed.

"So what do you think Spence?"

"Sorry, what?" He turns his focus back to his teammates, frowning a little as he tries to figure out what was the question referring to.

"Wow, you really were miles away, man. J.J. and I are going to get something to eat after bringing this one back to the hospital, do you wanna join us?" Morgan adds, looking at him in the rearview mirror.

"Oh, no thanks, I'm pretty tired, I think I'll just head home. Did you know that both the Three Mile Island and Chernobyl meltdowns, as well as the Exxon Valdez oil spill and the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster have all been attributed to the poor judgment of sleep deprived workers." Reid feels awful about lying to them, but he is not ready to admit to anyone the one thing he truly feels like doing when he gets back into the city.

For the rest of the ride, he makes sure to stay concentrated on the conversations. Keeping something to yourself is definitely one of the main problems when the majority of your time is spent with profilers.

"Thanks for the ride. See you guys tomorrow."

The car barely has time to stop before he gets out, not even giving enough time for his two colleagues to reply. As soon as he's out of view from the vehicle, his cell phone is out of his pocket and he's shakily dialing. As it rings he can't help but wonder how he's gotten so, how would you say that, distracted by her; until recently he had acknowledged to himself that she is quite nice and rather funny and, according to some, she could be considered aesthetically pleasing, but not to the point of feeling like his heart was trying to escape his chest when he thinks about her... Not that it was how he currently felt, of course!

"Hello?"

"Hi, Michelle, it's Spencer." He swallows hard and tries to calm his nerves before adding. "I was wondering if there would be some way for me to make up to you for calling in the middle of the night. Coffee maybe or, I don't know, if, you know, you haven't had dinner yet, we could go somewhere... together?"

It's probably only takes her a few seconds before answering but to Reid it feels like an eternity. He's not the type to put himself out there, especially when it comes to matters of the heart, if she refuses will they still be friends? Will he have to find a new place to get his morning coffee? What did he just do...

"I'd love go to dinner somewhere." From her tone of voice, he can tell she's smiling at the other end and he can't help smiling too, actually it requires a bit of self control to not do a little victory jump. "I don't know what kind of food you like, but we could met at Miles' Dinner, if you're in the neighborhood, in say half an hour?"

"That sounds great. I'll see you there!"

It takes him less than five minutes to get to the restaurant, he sits in a booth fidgeting nervously, his legs shaking under the table. He's wouldn't consider himself vain but in that moment, he wonders if maybe he shouldn't have gone home to change first, if he should remove the gray vest he has on and just keep the shirt and tie... He goes to the bathroom twice to check his hair and make sure he doesn't have anything stuck in his teeth. He unrolls and rerolls his sleeves before unrolling them again. Finally he decides to get out one of four books he keeps around in his messenger bag for light reading. Despite his best efforts, he can't concentrate, his head snapping up every time a new patron comes in and his reading speed diminishes to a mere 5,000 words per minutes.

The door opens again, and this time it is her, he stands up so fast that his knee hits the table. He walks up to her and she smiles as she spots him. They stand there, just smiling at each other for moment, until they realize they're blocking the door. She giggles nervously as they move out of the way and head for the table.

"Thanks for inviting me."

"Thank you for not being angry that I misused your phone number by calling you at 1 O'clock in the morning."

She waves it off and tells him not to worry about it before asking how his friend is doing and if they caught the person who shot her.

"We did; it turns out that guy was an Angel of Death with a Hero Homicide Complex who was working as a Deputy Sherriff, even though he told Garcia that he was a city attorney, which is an obvious sign of narcissism. Unfortunately, Garcia had flagged his fills in the Bureau's system, because she wanted to make sure that they got solved, for the families of the victims from her support group and... I'm rambling on, am I not?"

She laughs, nodding her head. "Just a little. It's fine, it's always nice to see someone whose passionate about what they do."

The waiter comes over to take their orders; he gets the fish and chips dinner special, she chooses cinnamon French toasts, which amuses him.

"What can I say, I can't resist a main course that is pretty much just a big dessert. What were you reading?" She nods toward the book he had left on the table.

"It's an encyclopedia of medical anomalies and oddities written in 1896 by Dr. George M. Gould. It's truly fascinating, but probably not the type of thing I should start rambling on about over dinner."

"So, kinda like the type of things you'd see at the Mütter Museum?" She asks before taking a sip of her Ginger Ale. He is genuinely surprised at the question, the young woman sitting in front of him doesn't look like someone who would even know what the Mütter Museum is and much less what it contains.

"You've been to the Mütter Museum? I don't want to sound rude, but you really don't seem like the type of person who'd be interested in that sort of stuff."

"I haven't made it there yet, but I'd love to. As for not looking like the type, I guess it's the same way you didn't strike me as a F.B.I. Agent when you first started coming to the café. You might just need to get to know me more to see what 'type' I am."

He nods in approval as their food arrives. He watches her body language as they keep talking and, unless he is just seeing what he wants to see, she is giving off some of the tell-tale signs of flirting and attraction; she laughs a little too loud at one of his very poor attempts at humor (which he really needs not to try ever again) she keeps eye contact for longer than necessary and she plays with her hair despite its shortness.

They keep talking all through dinner about everything and nothing; she asks about his PhD, and he explains that it's PhDs actually and reveals his 'genius status' which he hadn't really wanted to bring up, fearing she would look at him differently if she knew, but on the contrary she seems genuinely impressed. He learns that her parents separated when she was 14 and that she hates the term 'broken home'. They both have a sweet tooth and tend to prefer snack food to real one. She loves the cold and dislikes it when the weather goes over 85. He tells her a little about growing up in Las Vegas, and she admits having never thought about the fact that some people actually live there. She inquires why he wears his watch over his shirt and he rambles on for a good ten minutes about hyper sensitivity and its possible correlation to someone being gifted.

When the waiter comes with the check, he makes sure to pay, despite the fact that she tells him he doesn't need to. As they walk out, he opens the door for her. They walk side by side, heading toward her apartment just a few blocks away, neither of them talks but the silence doesn't feel awkward, it mostly feels like two people simply enjoying each other's presence. They stop in front of a small, four apartments building. She's standing close to him; she smells sweet and faintly soapy. She looks up at him, adjusting her glasses, her deep brown eyes looking straight into him. He's pretty certain she's waiting for him to do something, but he can't, for the life of him, figure out what it is he's supposed to do. He feels like electricity is going through his body as her fingers gently capture his wrist, her thumb brushing lightly against the fine skin just below his cuff.

"I had a great time tonight."

"So did I."

"I'll see you tomorrow morning for your coffee?"

"Absolutely."

She lets go of his wrist but, somehow, he can still feel her touch. She climbs up the few steps to her porch and turns back to look at him.

"Goodnight Spencer."

"Goodnight Michelle."

She unlocks the door, give him one last look and walks in. He stands there for a moment as the door closes behind her. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and slowly makes his way home replaying the evening in his mind.


	5. Clichés and Messages

The next morning he stops by the Java Tree for his coffee, everything, to a bystander, would seem perfectly inconspicuous but for Reid, there are important changes. First of all, when Michelle hands him his large black coffee he makes the daring move, at least daring for him, to, lightly, caress her fingers as she passes him the cup. Then, she tells him that a local movie theater is showing all the Star Trek movies starting that evening and asks if he would like to go, which he accepts without any hesitation, before realizing that it might be impossible with his work schedule, but tells her he will call her to confirm. Lastly, as he leaves, instead of her usual: "Have a good day at work, Doctor." She smiles and says, "Have a good day at work, Spencer."

It might be that he's smiling a little more than usual or maybe his body language reflects how great he feels despite his best effort to keep himself in check, but as soon as he walks into the BAU that morning comments start flying his way.

"Well, someone has extra pep in their step this morning," comments Emily.

J.J. teasingly asks him if he's finally received that obscure textbook he was telling her about to be in such a good mood. But, of course, the comment that almost makes him flinch in embarrassment is when Morgan walks into the briefing room as everyone else is settling down and goes:

"You're right, Prentiss, it does look like young Dr. Reid here got lucky last night!" He teases, ruffling Spencer's hair. "Out with it Pretty Boy, who's the lucky lady?"

"What? No! No, I didn't... there's no lady..." He looks pleadingly around the table, unfortunately to find everyone staring back with various levels of interest and curiosity. He feels his cheek burning and quickly retreats behind the files in front of him. "Can we please get on with the briefing and leave my personal life, or lack thereof out this? Please?"

There's no more talk of his love life, which he never really thought that he'd have enough of one to deserve talking about, once the briefing is over. They're flying to California on a gruesome case of murders with dismemberment; he sits at the back of the plane, staring out of the window. He truly enjoys flying; it is, in his opinion, one of the most relaxing modes of transportation. A coffee mug is placed in front of him, and he looks up as Prentiss sits in the opposite seat and apologetic look on her face.

"Hey, I just wanted to say, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean for Morgan to tease you when I said you looked extra peppy this morning. I figured coffee would probably be a fine way to make up for it."

"Thanks Emily." He gives her a smile that says 'Don't worry, it's all good.', she smiles back before standing up and walking back to her seat.

The rest of the day goes by without incidents, he manages to stay focus on the tasks at hand and not on thinking about how wonderful she smelled or how beautiful she looked standing on her stoop bathed in moonlight... Bathed in moonlight? When did he even start thinking in such cheesy clichés. The team goes out for dinner and he finds himself ordering French Toasts; looking at his watch tells him he should getting ready for Star Trek: The Motion Picture right about now. He excuses himself, and heads to the men's room. He gets out his phone and texts: 'Hey, it's Spencer. I won't be able to make it tonight, we're in California on a case. I'm sorry about the late notice. Enjoy the movie.' He's walking back to their table when his text message alarm rings. 'I'll just have to eat popcorn for two, I guess! Good luck with the case!' He smiles as he flips it closed.

After dinner, everyone heads back to the hotel. He sits on his bed, with his phone in his hand, considering if it's too late to call. He sighs, puts his cell on the bedside table and heads into the shower.

Almost half an hour later, he's rummaging around his go-bag, a towel around his midsection and other sitting precariously on top of his head, looking for a pair of underwear when a little flashing light brings his attention back to the bedside table. He flips the phone open and dials the password to his voicemail.

"Hey, it's me, Michelle. Just got out of the movie theater and I figured I'd give you a call to see if you were still awake. Guess not. You missed quite the fun evening, by the way, not only didn't you get to enjoy my company." She laughs. "Quite the big loss, I know. But, there were three people there tonight dressed up as Spock, McCoy and Kirk, so that too was pretty cool. Anyway, huh, I guess I was just calling to say good night so, well, good night!"

He saves the message, closes his eyes and sighs. He gets dressed for bed and then sits at the little desk by the window; he pulls out a piece of paper and begins his daily letter to his mother and tonight, Spencer Reid writes to his mother about the pretty black-haired girl he likes who seems to like him back.


	6. Special Request

He makes it home from the California case in the early evening and calls her as he steps into his apartment. They agree to meet at a quarter to 8 at the movie theater for the second evening of the festival, The Wrath of Khan. That gives him an hour and a half to refill his go-bag, start a load of laundry, have dinner, shower and agonize over what is an appropriate second date outfit... (Is this a second date? Well, it's as close to one as he ever had, so...)

Although, by the time he gets to that last item on his list, he barely has five minutes left before he has to leave if he doesn't want to be late and ends up grabbing the first shirt and sweater available, which turn out to be a light blue plaid shirt and his trusted grey sweater, a pair of black slacks, his white Converse and a brown jacket. As he heads out, he grabs his messenger bag and his purple scarf and out the door he goes.

She's already there when he arrives; he takes a second to look at her before walking up to her. She looks around the street, trying to locate him, biting her lips nervously as she does. He doesn't understand how someone like her got interested in someone like him, but as Garcia once told the team, they must have some good karma accumulated for catching the worst of humanity day in, day out. He makes his way toward her, and she toward him as soon as she sees him.

They stand in line for the tickets behind a group completely dressed up as some of the series' main characters. She whispers in his ear, inquiring if he would be embarrassed if she asked them for a picture. Reid shakes his head, and answers that on the contrary, he'd actually really like to get a copy of the picture if they agree; which they do. He stands there, with his arm around Michelle's shoulders, Mr. Spock, Scotty and Uhura to his right and Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy and a Generic Red Shirt to her left as the usher takes the picture with Michelle's camera. There's something rather amazing about that moment, not only does the girl at his side know Star Trek, but she's just as excited about it as he is; Garcia might be on to something with her stories of karma. They thank the group before heading into the small theater.

"I will definitely need a copy of that picture!"

"You've got it."

They sit near the back of the darken room, as the movie plays he risks some quick glances at her. She catches him doing it and giggles as he acts as if nothing happened which gets her a loud shush from the Klingon a few rows down. Toward the end of the movie, as Captain Spock melds his mind with Dr. McCoy before heading to his death, he sees Michelle's chin shaking badly, her eyes filled with tears, she's biting her bottom lip to try and keep herself from crying. Instinctively, his hand finds hers in the darkness and he laces their fingers together, they share a look for a moment, it's like she's asking him if he minds her crying, he gives her hand a light squeeze. She rests her head against his shoulder and sobs silently.

They walk back to her apartment, hands in hands, they haven't let go since they left the theater. She apologizes twice for leaving a wet spot on his sweater, he dismisses it by telling her, he was doing his best to keep a straight face, and if she hadn't been there he might have cried just as much which makes her smile. This time he walks up the stairs with her, they're standing in front of the door, and all he wants to do is kiss her, he leans in, she leans forward, but at the last second he chokes and kisses her cheek instead.

After that, they call or text every evenings, unfortunately unable to see each other due to two overnight cases back to back. He's able to play it normal at work and luckily for him, it seems no one on the team is paying much attention to his behavior anyway.

He's lying on the bed in his hotel room, an arm under his head, his cell phone at his ear. Her laughter echoes in his head as she finishes telling him about something funny that happened to her at work that morning.

"Hey, speaking of the Java Tree," she hesitates a moment and he can hear her taking in a deep calming breath before continuing. She usually sounds quite confident when they're talking, and that change in character, put all his senses on alert. "Tina and Josh, the owners, are finally tying the knot this weekend and, huh, I was wondering, if you're in town of course, if you'd be my plus one?"

He accepts faster than is probably appropriate, which makes her chuckle at the other end. She gives him the details, and he offers to pick her up. She says she can't wait to see him, and he replies that hopefully they'll be able to solve this case fast and he'll be able to see her before Saturday morning.

Unfortunately, that proves to be impossible. They end up heading back to Quantico on Friday afternoon. He and J.J. are the only ones still awake on the flight back which he finds extremely fortunate. He walks over to her as she pours herself a cup of coffee.

"Hey J.J., could I ask your help with something?"

"Sure. What's going on?"

"I'd rather this stayed between us, if you don't mind. I really don't want everyone else knowing."

She nods and crosses her heart with her finger. He checks behind him to make sure everyone is really asleep, before whispering: "Well, huh, I've been seeing someone for a couple of weeks and..." She interrupts to say how happy she is for him. "...she's great and really nice and quite pretty too... but I diverge. So, she asked me if I could accompany her to her bosses' wedding this weekend and I said yes, of course, but I've never been anyone's..." He can't bring himself to say 'date', it just feels to foreign in his mouth, he gesticulate for a moment and settles for 'plus one'. "And I wanna make sure I do everything right... Could you give me some tips on, I don't know, how to be normal so that I don't embarrass her."

The blonde shakes her head, smiling and ruffles his hair.

"Spence, she wouldn't have asked you to be her date, if she wanted you to be someone else. How long have you two known each other anyway?"

He explains that he's known Michelle as a friendly acquaintance, or maybe even a casual friend, for close to three years now, that he admitted to himself that he might have had a small crush on her for almost a year and that when he is with her, he even forgets that what he's feeling is simply due to heighten levels of serotonin, norepinephrine, phenylethylamine and dopamine in the brain. J.J. puts her hand on his arm and he stops talking.

"You'll be fine, Spence. Don't worry about it. Just go, be yourself and have fun!"

She walks past him, heading back to her seat. He does the same and as he stares out at the clouds outside, he crosses his fingers that she's right.


	7. Wedding Favor

Saturday morning, he gets in his car and drives the few short minutes between their apartments. He's a little early, probably because he's been awake since 6 am. He parks in front of her building, gets out and attempts to lean against the car, looking cool like they do in movies. Unfortunately for him, it's harder than it looks and he wonders how Morgan manages to make it look so easy.

She steps outside and he's positive his heart stops for a second; she wears a simple, slightly fitted coral dress and has her hair in finger waves. She carries a pair of short heels sandals in one hand, which draws his attention to the pink sneakers she's wearing, and a gift bag, probably for the happy couple, in the other.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you. You look pretty great yourself!" She looks at him up and down, nodding in approval. "Nice car by the way."

He opens the door and lets her in. That's when he notices them; two tattoos. He didn't even know she had any; one looks like a banner with some text on her right calf and the other, between her shoulder blades, is a light blue fleur-de-lis that seems to be made of lace. Definitely, she is full of surprises. He settles in the driver seat, but before starting the car, he looks at her and she's staring at him.

"What? Do I have something in my teeth?"

"You're wearing your glasses." He freezes, she interrupts him as he starts saying he does have his contacts in his bag. "No, no. I really like your glasses. I just didn't know if I had told you that."

"You did actually." He turns the key and puts the car in drive. "Last February on the 21st."

"It's truly incredible that you can remember all that. I can barely remember what I had for lunch yesterday."

"Eidetic memory has its advantages." He doesn't mention that for him to remember conversations or audio cues, it requires a heighten level of focus on the subject.

"Thank you again for being willing to come. I know it was last minute and all."

"I'm really glad you asked me."

The wedding is about forty-five minutes away, at a B&B in Virginia. The ceremony space is set in the bed & breakfast's garden, as they walk toward it, Michelle takes his hand in hers. It feels surprisingly natural. As they approach, a few of her colleagues come over and to say Hi, she introduces him as Spencer and he realizes how long it's been since anyone introduced him by his first name, not Reid, or Doctor, or Dr. Reid, just Spencer. He feels slightly awkward and out of place but her presence at his side calms him.

The ceremony is quite lovely, the bride and groom seem incredibly happy and in love and he finds it refreshing to see some good in the world. Next to him, Michelle gets rather emotional, after seeing her during the Wrath of Khan, he figured she would be, and pulls out the small packet of tissues he had in his pocket. She smiles at him, through the tears, and dries her eyes.

After the ceremony, they're directed to the reception space. Food is serve as people walk around and mingle. One of the other baristas he's seen before comes over to talk, Michelle introduces her as Allison; she's a tall brunette who smells strongly of clove cigarettes. She asks if she can borrow his date for a minute and he replies that he has no say in who Michelle talks to.

Michelle looks over her shoulder at him as Allison takes her a little farther away, what she seems to think is out of earshot.

"Alli, that was rude!"

"Sorry, sorry. You know me, when I get excited about something there's nothing to hold me back! Now, tell me what's going on here!"

He watches as Michelle looks down at her feet, blushing a little. Is she embarrassed about something?

"You know very well what I'm talking about missy! I can't believe you came here with B.B. over there."

"His name is Spencer." Michelle replies with a bit more self-assurance. "And yes, I asked him to be my date!"

Allison laughs and pats the other girl's shoulder before heading over to an other group of people. Michelle heads back toward him, and his face must show that he heard everything since the first words out of her mouth are: "I'm sorry. Allison is ridiculously rude."

He waves it off, despite the fact he's feeling embarrassed and wishes he was anywhere but where he stands right now; he does mention that B.B. is a very unoriginal nickname since he's been called that by bullies for most of his early school life. She raises an eyebrow.

"What do you think B.B. means?"

"Big Brain, of course."

Suddenly, she's laughing and he's confused. She shakes her head No, but needs a moment before calming down.

"I'm sorry, dear genius, but you are incredibly wrong this time."

He asks what it means, wasn't Allison just mocking her for coming here with him just a minute ago? She takes his hands and strokes the back of them with her thumbs.

"No, she wasn't. She was teasing me, for finally having the guts to ask you out." She blushes as she continues. "As for B.B., it's a silly nickname the other baristas and I have been using for you before I learned your name. One morning, when you first started coming by the coffee shop, I told Tina 'Gosh he's such a beautiful boy!' and it stuck."

Now, he's the one blushing!

He's unsure when the music started playing but people started taking to the dance floor; Michelle and him stay to the side, sitting at one of the tables. As the reception progresses, the music slows down and the couples get closer. That's when she stands and extends her hand, he just looks at her for a moment; surely, she can't be asking what he thinks she's asking.

"Dance with me, Doctor."

His mouth is ready to refuse, to tell her he really doesn't dance, that he'll probably just step on her toes, but his body decides otherwise; he stands and takes her hand. She leads him onto the dance floor, before getting rather close to him; her right hand still in his, the other wrapping itself around the back of his neck. His free hand rest on her waist, probably a little too high, but he worries what his body might do if he puts it any lower. He can feel her body against his, her head resting on his chest. Her fingers play with his hair and he tries his best not to shiver at the touch. She's humming along to the music and he can almost feel the vibrations. He relaxes a little and pulls her closer. They're in their own private world and it feels wonderful. He can't tell if the song last two minutes or an hour, all he knows is that it ends way too quickly.

Later that night, he drives her home and walks her to her door. He says he had a great time and thanks her for inviting him, she tells him she's glad and that she really enjoyed herself too.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course." He nods.

"Would it be okay if I kissed you?"

His brain takes a second to register the question and he ends up answering: "Is that hypothetical or is it an actual possibility?"

She laughs, her cheeks a little redder than normal, and replies that it all depends on his answer.

"I'd like that."

With that, she gets on tip-toes, her arms around his neck as his clumsily reach for her waist. Her lips touch his and he now understands what they mean in novels when they talk about fireworks. One of his hands leave her waist to cradle her face, her fingers through his hair feels electrifying. He pulls her closer to him; she tastes like champagne and wedding cake and feels just absolutely incredible pressed against him like this. For a second, he thinks about the kisses he shared with Lila and he tries to understand why both are so different. Maybe because after a while he realized he was mainly physically attracted to the blonde starlet or it might be because he's known Michelle for more than 48hrs. He forces his brain to stop over-thinking and just enjoys what is happening.

When they break apart, they're both breathless. Her eyes are shining behind her glasses and he's pretty certain his must be as well; his heart is thumping in his chest and he can tell he's grinning like a loon.

"Wow!" Despite his enormous vocabulary, that's all he's really able to come up with to explain how the kiss felt. His brain as well as his glasses seem slightly foggy.

"Good night, Spencer." She says, a flirtatious smile on her lips, as she unlocks the door.

"Wait!" She turns around; he passes his hand in his hair and rests it on his neck while the other gesticulates frantically as he speaks. "I might not have mentioned before, but I'm not quite well versed when it comes to... things like this. Does this mean we're... dating?"

She doesn't answer verbally, instead she kisses him again and he decides to take that as a yes!


	8. Sensory Overload

His mother was right; when you're ready, the right kind of girls will find you. It seems to have taken him 26 years, but she found him. He rolls his shoulders and stretches a little, before turning over, his face resting against his pillow.

Sunday is a wonderful day, when they don't get to called in to work anyway, because it's the one day of the week that he leaves blank of any scheduling; he gets to just lay in bed for as long as he want, he can read or listen to music, he can go anywhere, although he usually ends up spending the day in his apartment or around it. Sunday is 'Do as you please, Spencer' Day.

He reaches lazily for the book he started the night before; he didn't get past the second chapter because his mind kept bringing up their kiss. He picks up his glasses from his nightstand drawer and tries to concentrate on the book. When that doesn't work, he settles on daydreaming.

It's almost 1 O'clock when his phone rings; he beams as he sees the number on the caller ID.

"Hey!"

"Hi! I was wondering if you had plans for today?"

"No, my schedule is completely blank."

She asks if he would like to come over to her place, she proposes something simple like movies and delivery for dinner if he's interested. He accepts eagerly but mentions that he needs to run a quick errand first.

"Perfect! I needed enough the time for a quick shower..." Her voice cuts for a second, before she adds very fast sounding a little embarrassed. "That was too much information. Sorry about that."

It might have been too much information, but it sure sends his imagination on a whirl. He says it's okay, but somehow his voice sounds an octave too high; he clears his throat before asking if him arriving in half an hour would work for her and he wonders to himself when his apartment got so warm.

He checks his watch, making sure he's not too early. He makes his way to apartment 1A and knocks. She opens the door, and allows him into her home. As she closes the door, he takes in the living room. The walls are a deep auburn color and covered with everything for an unframed abstract painting to enlarged comic book covers and some cartoonish photo collages of colorful aliens-like creatures frolicking around black and white pictures of New York City. As for furniture, nothing seems to belong together, even the dinner table has four different chairs around it but somehow the whole is strangely cohesive. One thing that surprise him is the scent, there's this very distinctive sweet soapy smell in the air; he used to think it was her perfume, but it seems to be the way her apartment actually smells.

"Welcome to my home!" She says, extending her arm to show the room like it was some prize on a game show. She pushes herself on tip-toes and gives him a peck on the cheek, he blushes a little despite himself.

"Your apartment is very... you!" She gives him a questioning look, seemingly unsure if she should be flattered or insulted. "I, I meant that as a compliment; it's warm and welcoming and a little eclectic and those seem to be big parts of your personality."

"I see, well thank you then!" She takes a few steps away from the door, but he stays by the door. She cocks her head to side. "Are you gonna stand there all afternoon?"

"I was just wondering if you prefer for your guests to keep their shoes on, or..."

"It's up to you really, I'm personally a firm believer in letting toes breath." She wiggles hers as if to prove her point.

He puts down the bag he's been holding on a small bench by the door and he proceed to take off his shoes, revealing a neon blue striped sock and an orange one with black cats on it. He places both shoes by door neatly and picks his bag.

"I was told never to arrive to someone's house empty-handed, so I stopped by the market and got us snack food." He feels a little embarrassed, he has been told quite often that he lacks social grace and he hopes this was the right thing to do. Judging by her reaction, he had a good idea; she mentions she has some pop corn and ice cream, but with all this they can have an entire snack feast. She takes the bag into the kitchen, and asks if he'd like anything to drink; he thanks her, but he doesn't need anything. He stand awkwardly in the living room, it feels really intimate to step like that into someone else's living space.

The slight awkwardness relieves itself as soon as a movie is put into the player, she sits close to him and his nerves relax. The movie doesn't keep their attention for long though, after just a few minutes, he feels a compulsion to have her closer.

"Dr. Spencer Reid!" She's laughing so hard it takes her a moment before even be able to finish her sentence, her face in comically overdone offended expression. "Did you just 'yawn-and-arm-over-the-shoulders' me?"

He throws his hands in air in surrender, playing along; his smile extending from ear to ear.

"In my defense, it always works in the movies and also, I don't think can be blamed for wanting to be a little closer to you."

She blushes and he finds it hard to believe how lovely she looks or that he's the one causing this reaction in her. He's just about to mention some fact about the physiology of blushing and the fact that humans only start blushing when the conscience develops, but instead he just leans in and kisses her, and just like that movie is forgotten.

He's quite uncertain when they went from sitting to lying down on her couch, he also has no recollection of even removing his jacket but somehow it got off his body and onto the floor. That's when it happens; the phone rings. He pulls away, breathless and sits back on his heels; he gives her an apologetic smile, with one hand he pushes his hair out of his face, the other reaching into his pocket and grabbing his phone. He glances at Michelle's flustered cheeks and all he wants to do is just silence the inopportune call, despite that he looks at the caller ID and much to his surprise, it's not his phone that's ringing.

"It's not mine."

Kind of in a daze, she blinks a few times before it hits her; she wiggles herself out from under him and takes out her phone.

"Crap! It's my mom."

He signals to take it as he tries to stand, only to find that his legs to be rather flimsy. She sits up on the couch and takes a deep, calming breath before answering.

"Salut maman, oui ça va. Désolée, mon téléphone était coincé dans ma poche. Oui. Hum-hum. J'sais bien, j'm'excuse. Hey m'man, j'peux tu te rappeler plus tard, j'étais occupée. Okay, okay, on s'parle plus tard. Moi aussi. Bye!" She hangs up and sighs. "I'm so sorry about that. She never calls normally, but I haven't phoned her in a few weeks and she was worried... What?"

"The blue fleur-de-lis tattoo, it makes sense now. You're French Canadian." He can't believe he didn't connect the two together earlier, she's really distracting him more than he thought, he'll have to watch that.

"Kinda, I'm a dual citizen actually. I was raised in Quebec City and my parents are Canadians, but I was born in New York."

"Jus soli," he says. "Did you know that of the world 'advanced economies' Canada and the United States are the only countries that observe birthright citizenship? Why was your mom travelling if she was in her third-trimester, that doesn't seem very safe?"

She explains that her father is a sound technician and the band he was working for when her mother found out she was pregnant, was about to leave on tour. He didn't want to leave his pregnant girlfriend behind and therefore, her mom traveled with them. They were going to go home to Quebec two weeks before her due date, but unfortunately she went into labor a little early. "...and voilà, April 1st, 1980, I popped out in New York City."

"You're older than me."

"Really?"

"Hum-hum!" He nods and points to himself. "October 12, 1980."

"Well, I guess that makes me a cougar then." She says with chuckle, her hand resting on his thigh. She elaborates as he frowns, trying to figure out how being older than him makes her a member of the big cats family. "You know, an older woman who's attracted to younger men."

After that, they decide to give the movie another chance; Michelle makes pop corn and as she sits, he puts his arm around her. It's all so surprisingly easy and normal, it's like he's done it a million times before. She pushes a strand of hair behind his ear and places a small kiss where it was which sends shivers through his entire body.

Later on, food is ordered, delivered and eaten. They talk, laugh and he finally asks her: "I have to ask, what is that smell?"

"What smell?"

"That kind of a soapy, sweet scent. At first, I thought it was your perfume, since I've been smelling it for years at the coffee house, but when I came in, I realized it's the scent of your apartment and I can't seem to figure out what it is."

"Oh that! I don't even smell it anymore, but here, let me show you." She stands and leads him down hall pass the kitchen and the bathroom. There are two doors, one is opened and he can see it's her bedroom, the other is closed and there's a post-it at Michelle's eye-level that says: 'Don't forget your goggles!'

She opens it and steps in, he follows closely; the olfactory overload is inevitable. He doesn't know what he was expecting but this wasn't it. In one corner of the room, sits a large wooden structure with three levels and filled with dark brown bottles; a perfume organ. The middle of the room is filled by a large work bench with a hot plate, multiple pots and pans and molds. The walls are covered with shelves filled bottles and other products.

"Welcome to my lab!" She says a large smile on her face. "The Java Tree is my second job, that's why I'm only there part-time for the morning shift. The rest of the time, I'm here; I hand make bath and body products and that I sell on the Internet. It might sound silly and it doesn't pay the bills, but it makes me happy."

"I think it's great." He can't believe that he's known her for years and seems to know so little about her, but he knows one thing; he's very much looking forward to discovering everything she's willing to share.


	9. Asking for Help

He sits alone as his kitchen table, his head between his knees, his hands pulling at his hair as he tries, and fails, to take deep calming breaths. What he witnessed today shook him to his core and the little nagging voice in the back of his head that keeps telling him he knows what to do to make it all better just won't go away. He tilts his head back and clenches his jaws, his phone is on the table and seems to be mocking him; he should call her, he shouldn't stay alone, but he doesn't want to tell her, not now... not ever really. They've only been together for a month, and he can't have her see him like this. He knows it's his pride talking, but he just doesn't want to take the chance of seeing disgust or pity in her eyes.

After a full hour of debating it, he caves in and calls.

"Hi there, are you back in town yet?" Her voice is soothing, it's full of happiness and he can see her smiling in his mind.

"Hey. Yeah, I am." She can tell something is wrong just by his voice and asks what's going on, if he's okay. "The case today didn't end well, and I, I really don't want to be alone tonight. Would you mind coming over?"

She agrees and says she'll be right there, and true to her word, the buzzer from the building's front door rings approximately 15 minutes later. As he opens the door to his apartment, he can tell she probably speed walked or even ran most of the way; her breath is short and her cheeks are a deep plum color.

Despite her visible physical discomfort, her eyes are locked on his. She reaches out and pushes his hair back to look at his face.

"Spencer, what happened?"

He walks to the couch and sits down, his hands hiding his face; he expects her to sit next to him, but instead she kneels on the floor in front of him that way getting a better view at his face despite his curtain of hair. She takes his hands away and holds them in hers.

"Tell me." She whispers like she doesn't want to scare a little wild animal.

His barrier cracks, he rests his forehead against hers; he takes back his left hand and places it on her neck, keeping her close. He says he can't tell her, he knows she gets nightmares when he does and she bravely replies that she can take it.

"I, I was trying to talk down the father of one of our victims from killing one of our UnSubs... the, the father was holding a shotgun and his daughter was screaming at him to kill her kidnapper, that he killed her friend. I tried, I..." His voice cracks and he can feel his eyes stinging, soon after he feels the warm tears going down his face. "I really tried, but... I thought I had gotten through to him, but he still... and afterward, all I could do was just, just stand there, you know. I was frozen."

He feels her hand on his cheek, and he risks looking at her, her eyes are filled with concern; it's almost as if she can tell there's more that he's not telling her.

"I keep seeing that kid's face as the shot is fired, over and over in my head, every time I blink, it's there. I want it to stop. I need it to stop."

He slides from the couch onto the floor next to her, she pulls him against her and for a while, no one speaks. She keeps him close and calmingly caresses his hair. When the sobs have subsided, he pulls away and looks at her; in that moment all he wants is to shut the world out and just stay here with her forever and that when he makes his decision. He can't keep her in the dark, it's like lying to her and he doesn't want to do that, but he can tell how emotionally involved in this relationship he is after only about a month; losing her now if the truth pushes her away will hurt, but if he doesn't and she learns about it later and leaves then, he can't imagine if he'll be able to take the pain.

"Mimi?" He remembers how surprised she was when he first called her that, telling him that the only other people in her life who use that nickname are her dad and sister; to everyone else, she's always been Shelley. He asked her if it was okay for him use that name (Especially after his own long speech when she called him 'Spence' and he told her how only his friend J.J. calls him that and that he would like to keep it that way; he still feels silly for making a big deal about it, but change is still something he has a lot of issues with.) and she told him, she really likes his way of saying it. "There's something I need to tell you.

"The main reason, why I didn't want to be alone tonight, is... well, last year, we were on case and I was kidnapped by the UnSub. He was a very mentally disturbed individual with an actual dissociative identity disorder; while one personality would torture me, the other did the best he could to keep me alive. Unfortunately, one of the ways he used to ease the pain was to inject me with dilaudid; a very strong, very addictive opiate. For the first time in my life, I could stop thinking; it felt like my brain would just stop its constant flow of information as well as all the reminders of what I see every day, it felt like even all the bad memories were not as hard to deal with anymore. That lasted for over two days."

"You got addicted?" Her voice is calm but pained. He looks at her, and her entire facial expression is more worried than disgusted or pitying.

He nods and tells her that he's been clean for 9 months now but...

"...tonight you got worried that you might slip." It's not a question, just an affirmation.

He nods again, wondering how she might know.

"I hope that doesn't change your opinion of me."

She shakes her and assures him that it doesn't, it's just one more information about him, but it doesn't change the big picture. She asks him if he's joined a support group.

"No, no one outside of my team knows about this, not even my mom and I tell her virtually everything."

She reveals that the addiction of choice in her family, on her father's side, is alcohol. She tells him about her grandfather who passed away from cancer a few years ago, but wouldn't let go until January 4th, because it was the day he was supposed to receive his 31st year sobriety chip. She mentions also her uncle who's been trying to fight the addiction for as long as she can remember, but still slips and needs people, mainly her father, to help him up again every once in a while. She says that's why she never touched drugs and rarely has more than two alcoholic beverages in an evening, because she knows that genetic plays a big part in someone's risks of getting hooked and that scares her. She lifts his chin and makes sure he's looking her straight in the eyes when she says: "I don't know about you, but I'm in this for the long haul; neither of us has to face the world alone anymore."

Spencer will look back on this night, years from now, and he'll pinpoint this as the exact moment when he fell in love with her.


	10. Another Hotel Room

He looks out the window of his hotel room, he can see the lights of the Strip in the distance. Even when he gets time off, he still ends up in hotel rooms. To his count, this year alone, he slept in a hotel bed 208 nights; 56.98% of his nights have been spent in some strange bed away from home. It didn't use to bother him, but now he can see how one could prefer a job with normal hours.

Over the last month, he wasn't able to be around as much as he would have liked. The cases just seemed to pile up, leaving barely anytime for anything else really. First, that sexual sadist case in Philly and then there was that really unpleasant moment stuck in a room with a serial killer during shift change.

He can see Michelle's face in his head when he told her about that, she looked terrified but there was still a little bit of admiration in her eyes, clinging to his every word as he explained how he was the one to defuse the situation and in that moment, he felt a little heroic.

After that they had that angel of death in Pittsburgh, and the one evening when it seemed like he actually could just go home and spend the evening with his girlfriend, Morgan had the brilliant idea that they should all go out. Since no one other than J.J. knows he's seeing someone, he had to accept; Michelle says that despite the fact she would like to be with him more often, she understand that his job gets in the way. He manages to see her the next two nights, luckily and finally makes it to a N.A. meeting. Then there's the Owen Savage case, which he's still getting over. Relating to an UnSub always makes him worry that this job has finally taken its toll on his sanity.

Now, Christmas as come and gone and he hasn't seen her in ten days. As usual, he flew here to be with his mom for the Holidays; she went up to Canada to be with her family. He told her very little about his mom and her situation, all she knows is that she lives in a long-term care facility, and he feels quite grateful that she didn't push the issue.

They exchanged gifts at the airport; they decided to opt for a small present each since they both needed to fly with them. He turns around and looks at the framed picture of them, with the Star Trek group, that currently sits on the bedside table, it's probably one of the best Christmas gifts he had in years. He hopes she's enjoying her 1930 edition of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, he found at one of the little hole-in-the-wall used bookstore he likes; he saw it there and remembered it to be her favorite novel. He checks his watch, only an hour and a half before the end of the year on the East Coast, she said she'd call at midnight, that she wants to make sure his voice is the first one she hears to begin 2008; that made him smile, and after a day at the Sanitarium with his mother, he really needed it; his mom has been going through a bad episode since he arrived.

A knock at the door surprises him. He gets up, and stretches as he walks. He looks into the peephole and his eyes widen, he removes the chain on the door and opens it wide.

"Wha-what are you... what are you doing here?"

She stands in front of him, holding two party hats and what looks like a bottle of champagne. Her short, black dress hugs her curves that, along with her mischievous smile, are enough to send his confused mind straight in the gutter. She sneaks past him and into the room, pulling her suitcase behind her.

"I can't believe you're here." He says as he closes the door, before wrapping his arms around her.

"I realized that just talking to you wasn't going to cut it," she says, her face pressed against his chest. "I decided I wanted to be able to kiss my boyfriend at midnight. So, I hopped on the first flight to Vegas I could find, and here I am."

He shakes his head a little at her impulsivity; it's definitely not something he could ever do. He enjoys just holding her like this, her small frame fitting perfectly against him. She kisses his neck, and he has to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from making a rather undignified noise; she does it on purpose, knowing very well what that does to him.

She snuggles a bit closer to him under the covers as they watch the celebrations at Time Square on TV. He knows she used to live there before coming to D.C. and asks her if she ever went to see the ball drop, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back.

"Absolutely not. You couldn't pay me to go. While I was there, whenever there was a big holiday, I would just barricade myself in my apartment and try to block out the world. New York is crazy in general, but holidays are definitely the worst," she says, as she grabs the party hats from floor and places one on her head, which makes him laugh, until she wrestles him into the second one. "Come on, it's almost time!"

She gets up, and walks over to table, his eyes follow her around the room. She grabs the bottle of what turns out to be sparkling cider, which he is thankful for since one isn't supposed to drink alcohol while working on the 12 steps, she also takes the two glasses on top of the minibar; she puts everything on the bedside table before climbing back into bed. He sits up as they countdown the last few seconds of the year.

"3, 2, 1! Happy New Year!"

She pulls him in and kisses him. They break apart and she says, "this is absolutely better than a phone call!"

"I would have to agree!" He grins. "I have to say, I'm really, really glad you're here."

She serves two glasses of the sparkling cider and they toast to the start of a wonderful new year. His phone starts vibrating with texts from the team, everyone sending out their New Year wishes and he does the same; Michelle calls her family and friends, switching back and forth between French and English. She hangs from her last call and asks him: "So, what's going to be your New Year resolution?"

"Well, since only 8% of the population actually manages to achieve their resolutions during any given years, I find the odds to low to even bother making one."

"Really? I always achieve my resolution."

"I don't even have a statistic for how low the probability of that happening is."

"I have to admit, last year's resolution was to stay 5 feet 4." She laughs. "My dad always used to make the stupidest resolutions every year while I was growing up, so it kinda stuck with me."

He finds that to be excellent idea, and he decides that this year, he will make an exception and make a resolution.

"This year, I will keep my hair long." He says solemnly. "Shouldn't be too hard since I haven't had short hair since I defended my first thesis."

"Very good choice, sir. Well then, mine will be," she rests her forehead on her fist, feigning to be in deep thoughts, "to continue to be my amazing self all through the year!"

They keep talking some more, before deciding to go to sleep. As sleep claims him, he thinks to himself that is definitely going to be a happy year.


	11. Sharing the Secret

"No really, I found my glasses here." He says as he opens the door for her. She walks in and takes a deep breath; she says that she just love the smell of a good thrift store. He just laughs, having gotten used to those kinds of strange affirmations over the past months. He finds it especially entertaining to see her at work now in the morning; he can always tell when she's stopping herself from saying something that most people might find strange. He just loves the fact that when they are together, they are very much themselves.

He walks slowly behind her as she looks through the books they keep at the front of the store. She grabs an old, used copy of Return of the King and mentions very excitedly that she's been looking for that specific edition for years to complete her series.

She strolls over to the clothes and as she starts looking around, he picks up a grey and black sweater vest. He tries it on over his button-down shirt and tie, but unfortunately, it's two sizes too big for him.

"Anyway, I don't think you need any more sweater vests, Dr. Reid!" He jumps at the chirpy voice behind him. Oh, God, no, not here, not now, is all he can think. He turns around and there she stands, smiling at him, Penelope Garcia in all her exuberance. "I should have guessed that you were the thrift store type! If I had known I would have made sure that we went shopping together sooner."

He clears his throat and adjusts his glasses, he quickly, and hopefully subtlety, looks up to Michelle who's still going through the racks.

"Well, shopping all by your lonesome isn't fun so, why don't I keep you company! I might even be able to add some color to your wardrobe." She puts her arm through his and starts pulling him forward.

That's when Michelle looks up and makes her way back toward him, a questioning look on her face. This isn't going to be good.

"Hum, Garcia... I'm... I'm not here alone."

The blonde looks back and forth between him and the short, black-haired girl who's just a few feet away now. Penelope's eyes grow bigger and her mouth opens to form an almost perfect 'O', she quickly pulls her arm back against herself.

"Oh, oh my God, I'm so sorry. I didn't expect... I mean, of course, it's possible... But I... I'm so sorry." She's talking at an impressively fast pace, her cheeks turning more red by seconds.

"Michelle, this is Penelope Garcia. We work together at the BAU."

"Nice to meet you! Spencer told me a lot about his team, over the years. It's nice to finally met one of you." Michelle says, putting her hand in his. In his head, he can already imagine the teasing and the ridiculous amount of questions he'll have to answer at work tomorrow.

Garcia is staring at him in disbelief. "Years? Reid, have you been hiding the fact that you have a girlfriend from us for years?"

Michelle explains that they've only been dating 3 months, but have known each other for years. He's having some difficulty making sense of what is happening, before he knows it, Michelle is paying for the book she found and a shirt and the three of them are headed to lunch.

As they sit down at a small Italian place Garcia said they just absolutely need to try, he can hear the girls talking but can't quite make out what it is they're saying and he just blurts out: "Garcia, please don't tell anyone at work."

Two pairs of eyes just stare at him, Garcia is frowning a little and Michelle looks slightly hurt. Despite the fact that he explained to her why he wants to keep this to himself and keep his work life and their life separate; he knows she thinks it's because he's ashamed of her, when in all honesty, all he wants is just to have this as his and his alone and not have to share it with the team.

He passes his fingers through his hair and rests his hand on his neck, sighing.

"You know how everyone gets when there's something new in anyone's life. Why do you think it took J.J. a year to acknowledge the fact she's dating Will?"

"Reid, I won't say anything if you don't want me too but..."

Garcia's sentence is interrupted by Michelle's incoming email alarm. She apologizes, pulls out her phone and sighs audibly.

"I'm gonna have to go, I'm so sorry."

"Is everything okay?" He looks up at her, as she's already on her feet gathering up her coat.

"Yeah, just an emergency order and it's a huge one; 120 wedding favors to be shipped by next weekend. I'll have to pull a few all-nighters if I want to get it all done." She says as she digs through her purse, trying to find her wallet to pay for her lunch.

"Don't worry about lunch; I'll take care of it. I'll come by later to drop it off and, if you want, I can help out for a while."

"Thank you! You're a lifesaver!" She kisses his cheek and he blushes, since Garcia is watching them seemingly quite interested by his interaction with his girlfriend. Michelle turns to her, she's speaking so fast that he easily picks up her French accent. "I'm really sorry for running out like this. You can ask Spencer, I'm normally not that rude, but it was great meeting you and I hope we'll get the chance to do this again at some point!"

His gaze follows her as she makes her way through the crowed restaurant, almost taking out two waiters on her way to the door. His attention is brought back to the table by Garcia's laughter.

"She's something else, isn't she? I like her." She takes a sip of water. "But I thought she said she was a barista, so, what was that about wedding favors?"

"Michelle does work as a barista, but she also has her own home business, she makes soaps and perfumes and bath products that she sells online."

"No way!" Suddenly Garcia is shooting questions at him; what's the name of the company? Her website? Does she make bath fizzies? Does she take fragrance requests? "I love that kind of stuff. That's it, Reid, I am going to make your girlfriend, my new best friend! Well actually, you know my silence you wanted to buy; maybe some samples would sweeten the deal, don't you think?"

She smiles, that typical Garcia smile and he can't help but chuckle.

"You've got a deal!" They shake hands as she tells him, that she wouldn't have told anyway. "I know, thanks Penelope. I really appreciate that. Oh, and please, don't run a background check on my girlfriend."

"That I can't promise, but don't worry, boy genius, your secret love story is safe with me!"


	12. Jars of Hearts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had forgotten that I started posting this story here, so over the next week or so, I'll be adding the remaining chapters.

It’s only Wednesday and he already wishes the week was done, Hotch and him just got back from Roanoke. It’s late and he just wants to get home and sleep, but luck isn’t on his side. As he walks through the parking lot, when a honking surprises him, he turns around.  
  
“Hey Reid, need a ride home?”  
  
Normally, he’d say no, he likes the train ride from Quantico to D.C., which is why he rarely drives to work, but now he finds himself just yawning and getting into the orange convertible.  
  
“What are you doing here so late, Garcia?”  
  
“I had protocols to update on my entire system, which took me four hours, but hey, you don’t rush virtual perfection. So, I bet you have big plans for next weekend, lover boy?”  
  
He frowns at her, cocking his head to the side, trying to figure out what she’s talking about. She gives him a quick disbelieving look, before turning her attention back to the dark road; she shakes her head.  
  
“I would have thought a genius like you would be able to remember something simple like that, but I guess not. Next weekend is Valentine’s Day!”  
  
He feels his mouth fall open, that can’t be right now can it? He checks the date on his phone, which confirms it. He sighs, closes his eyes and rests his head against the cool window, wondering out loud what he’s gonna do.  
  
Once again, the tech analyst proves herself to be a great friend; they spend the rest of the ride bouncing ideas of each other, they start out rather normal, stuff like chocolate and roses (which Garcia nixes as too easy and too cliché) but it goes downhill from there rather fast, to things like Garcia’s idea that he should fly them to Paris for weekend and they could drink champagne at the top of the Eiffel Tower.  
  
He gets out of the car, and tightens his scarf around his neck. He leans in and thanks his colleague for the ride home.  
  
“No worries, always glad to be of service. Tell that ridiculously talented girlfriend of yours I say ‘Hi!’ and that I am loving her ‘Going Bananas!’” She says, smelling her wrist with a big smile on her face; he says he’ll pass the message along. “Now, go plan your first Valentine’s Day; it’s something she’ll remember for the entire relationship, so better make it amazing, boy wonder!”  
  
She winks at him and pulls the passenger’s door closed before driving off. He shakes his head, and mumbles to himself: “Yeah, no pressure at all...”  
  
He doesn’t even want to think about what it might mean about him or his relationship that he got his idea for their first Valentine’s Day while looking at a crime scene photo of three skeletons in a shallow grave, but as they sit in his car, driving toward Philadelphia on Saturday morning, he feels rather proud of himself.  
  
They talk for a good part of the way; for a while, Michelle just sings tone-deafly along to a radio station claiming to only play ‘The Best of the 80s’ and a few songs makes him fear what the worst must have sounded like. She tries to bribe him into telling her where they’re going but he won’t budge.  
  
“Come on, please?” She’s tilting her head to the side and giving him her best ‘puppy eyes’ look.  
  
“Patience, you’ll see soon enough.”  
  
“Patience? You’ve seen me waiting in a line before; you know I have none of that what-so-ever.”  
  
He can’t help but smile, it is true that isn’t one of her strong points. He mentions that if his calculations are right, they are just about 44 miles away, after that she’s on the lookout for any distance signs and they finally pass one, she turns to him.  
  
“Spencer, why are we heading to Philly?” He takes a quick glance at her, her face light up like a child’s on Christmas morning. “Are you taking me to The Museum?!”  
  
He tries to play it cool, but a smile pulls at the corners of his mouth; she does a little dance of happiness in the passenger seat and tells him that if he wasn’t driving, she’d kiss him. He tells her she can feel free to do that when they get to their hotel and she promises to do so. He finds it incredible how much more confident he feels since they started dating, it’s especially true when they are together, but also sometimes at work he feels a lot more sure of himself and it’s a great sensation!  
  
It’s about half past noon when they check into their hotel; Michelle is teasing him about the hat he grabbed from the trunk since it started snowing. They drop off their overnight bags and hand in hand, make their way toward the reason of their trip: The Mütter Museum.  
  
They spend the next four hours looking at everything from Victorian eye model to corseted skeleton to the famous ‘Soap Lady’. He’s standing by a display case full of human skulls when she calls his name; he turns his head only to be blinded by the flash of her digital camera.  
  
“You could have warned me.” He says, rubbing his eyes. “I would have taken off the hat at least.”  
  
She tells him not to worry about it, that he looks just as handsome as ever, even with the hat on. She tries to take a picture of the two of them but fails at framing them both and it ends up being half his chest along with his chin and the top of her head that make the picture. A lady standing close by offers to take it for them; he takes off the hat for that one.  
  
The snow stopped by the time they start walking back to the hotel, he’s holding the bag of various items they purchased at the gift shop. Out of the blue, she kisses his cheek.  
  
“What was that for?”  
  
“For making this, the best Valentine’s Day I’ve had, and by far.”  
  
He gently squeezes her hand and mentally, he makes a note to thank Garcia for reminding him!

 


	13. New York City

“Hey, Mimi, have you seen my keys?” He could have sworn he placed them on the bedside table last night. Although, he was rather ecstatic last night when they arrived back at her apartment which can blur one’s memories; he puts his hand in his pocket and making sure it’s still there; his One Year medallion! A full year dilaudid-free, it feels surreal.   
  
“An eidetic memory and still can’t remember where his keys are.” He hears coming from the kitchen. “Did you check the drawer of the bedside table?”  
  
He starts rummaging through it when his hand rests on something cold and metallic, but definitely not his keys. He pulls it out and observes it for a moment; Michelle walks into the bedroom, she’s about to say something when he asks: “Why do you have a Smith & Wesson revolver in your bedside table?”  
  
“It was my grandpa’s, my dad gave it to me when I moved to New York, saying it wasn’t safe for a single young girl. To be honest, I’m terrified of the thing.”  
  
“Really? It obviously hasn’t been used in quite a while and could use a good some work, but that’s a great gun.”  
  
“Do you want it?” She asks as she sits on the bed to lace her pink Converse.  
  
He asks if she’s serious, it was her grand-father’s she, surely, would rather keep it in her family. She shakes her head and says she really would feel safer with it out of her home.  
  
“So, if you think you can make it work, and you like it, it’s yours, my love.” Michelle claps her hand on her mouth, her eyes wide. That word isn’t one that they exchanged yet, and she looks about to faint. He takes her hand away from her mouth and she looks at the floor, blushing; after a moment, her eyes look back at him and she murmurs: “There, I said it. I love you, Spencer.”  
  
He leans in and kisses her gently; he pulls back and looks at her, wondering how is it possible that his life changed so much of the past few months?   
  
“I love you, too.”  
  
The magic is quickly broken by her alarm telling her it’s time to leave for the Java Tree; he puts the revolver back in her bedside table.  
  
“Oh, by the way, I came in here to tell you, I found your keys.” She throws them at him and he fails at catching them, which makes her chuckle. “They were in your coat pocket.”  
  
He walks with her to the coffee shop, gets the same thing as always and heads to work. They’re finally being called in by the New York Field Office regarding the series of shooting that has been happening over the last two weeks.   
  
Before they head to airport, he dashes into the men’s room and texts Michelle: ‘We’re going to your birth place to help with the shootings. I will try to call you tonight from the hotel. Have a good day!’  
  
His phone vibrate in his pocket telling him he has a new message and he risks checking it while everyone pays attention to Garcia’s raving about the jet.  
  
‘Be safe! I’ll be watching. Good luck with the case!’  
  
To anyone else, the words ‘I’ll be watching.’ might seem a little strange, but it makes him smile; a few weeks after they started dating, she admitted to moving her laptop into her lab while she’s working to have constant access to news coverage, just in case they report anything about the case they are on and to feel a bit more secure about his safety.   
  
He hides the phone back in the safety of his pocket, next to his brand new, shiny medallion.  
  
New York is an intense experience; not only do they learn that they have more than one UnSub, but there’s also the tension in the team due to SSA Joyner’s seemingly random dislike of Morgan and learning about J.J.’s situation. He’s unsure why, but the idea of one of his close friends being pregnant makes him rather uncomfortable.   
  
He dials her number, and when she picks up, he feels most of the stress of the day leaving his body. They talk about their day; he tells her about J.J. and Will and about the case and she mentions some drama at work. They say good night, and he lays in bed awake for a while; sharing a bed with someone is very much of a learning experience (She had to adapt to his habit of leaving a light on during the night and he had to learn about sleeping in the same bed as someone else period.), but when he’s away, he misses it more than when they decide to sleep in their separate apartments.   
  
The next morning brings them another body, more questions and even less answers. He spends a good part of the evening verifying the profile with Rossi, and only gets back to the hotel at 1 am.  
  
The third day seems like it’s going to be more of the same and he’s revising his geographical profile for what feels like the 100th time; it’s actually just the 37th. As Rossi and Det. Brustin discuss, something click in Reid’s head, he turns to the board and there it is.  
  
“If you saw all of these traits completely out of context, what would be the first profile that pops into your head?” He asks the other agent, and a moment later, he’s on the phone with Garcia, trying to get a hold of the team and that’s when everything goes from bad to worst.  
  
They realize the surveillance system has been hacked and before they can even let the team know, Detective Cooper gets shot and Emily has to take out the suspect and just like that, their suspicions become reality; they’re dealing with terrorists. Sometimes, he hates it when they’re right!  
  
He’s driving to Port Authority Bus Terminal when his phone rings; he fumbles around to get it out of his bag without taking his eyes off the road, driving in New York is an absolute nightmare. By the time he gets it out, it stopped ringing; he’s about to put it bag when it starts again.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
“Oh thank God!” Michelle’s voice is panicked and staccato, like she’s been crying, he doesn’t even have time to ask what’s wrong, before she says, “I just saw the explosion on TV and they said it was near Federal Plaza, and I know we agreed that I shouldn’t call you at work, I just couldn’t... Il fallait, huh... I mean, I needed to know you’re okay.”  
  
“What? What explosion?” He barely gets the question out and she tells him what the news reporter said. “I, I have to call the rest of the team. I’ll, I’ll call you as soon as I can!”  
  
“Okay, just... just come home in one piece okay?”  
  
He says he will, and hopes he’s not lying. He makes a U-turn in the middle of Greenwich Avenue, turns on the sirens and heads back to Federal Plaza, trying everyone’s cellphones but not getting any answers. He barges in the Field Office and finds Rossi, that’s at least one of them who’s okay!  
  
He lies and says he heard about the bombing on the radio, luckily she called him or otherwise he’d still be in the dark. He calls Homeland Security and alerts them of the sites that will likely be hit by the bombers.   
  
After that, they have to do the worst part of their job... wait. He paces back and forth in the office, biting his lips until they’re nearly bleeding. They know Morgan and Prentiss are okay, but they still haven’t heard about Hotch or J.J. and, he knows there isn’t anything they can do right now, but it kills him to not be out there trying to find the rest of his family.   
  
He starts reworking his geographical profile, adding the explosion site into the equation, which has the fortunate side effect to keep most of his mind occupied, when Emily and J.J. barge in, they’re both alive and well and so is Will. He might reconsider that theory of a supreme being after this if everyone comes out of it alive.   
  
Garcia updates them on the situation; Hotch is alive but SSA Joyner is in bad shape and ambulances aren’t allowed to breach the perimeter. Derek is chasing down the bomber and they try to figure out the best way to help.   
  
One thing doesn’t sit right with him though, it’s been almost half an hour, and there aren’t reports of any explosions or of Homeland Security finding anything at the test sites. Something isn’t right.  
  
Once again, he proves his lack of social grace by mentioning that the UnSubs accomplished nothing in front of the NYPD Detective, but right now there isn’t time to worry about hurt feelings, these guys are intelligent, organized, disciplined and, for all they know, they aren’t finished.   
  
They arrive at St. Barclay’s Hospital and get Hotch up to speed. The last piece of the puzzle falls in their laps; New York isn’t the target, whoever the Secret Services are protecting at St. Barclay’s is.  
  
They find the bodies of the Secret Services agents and Morgan leads the bomb away; the UnSub kills himself before they can take him in, but they expected as much. They lost SSA Joyner, but Detective Cooper and Hotch should make full recoveries, which makes it hard to tell if they won or lost this one.   
  
He walks up the few steps up to the building’s front door and a neighbor walks out as he reaches it; he walks down the hallway and knocks at apartment 1A. She opens the door, her eyes filling with tears, she wraps her arms around him and he doesn’t know if he’s ever been hugged that tightly before. Her body is shaking like a leaf and she sobbing against him. He just holds her close until she’s able to breathe normally again. She looks up, her hand reaching out to touch his face; he rests his cheek against her palm, closing his eyes to take in the sensation for a moment.  
  
“I was so scared something might have happened to you.”  
  
He takes her hand in his and brings it up to his lips, kissing it lightly. He wants to say that everything is going to be alright, that she doesn’t have to worry, but he knows the statistics, he knows one day he might not come back from work and he just can’t lie to her. Instead, he just stands there and hold her close until she’s ready to move again.


	14. A Step Forward

He ends up staying at her place for a few days, unable to leave her since he is the reason she got so scared in the first place; she apologizes three times for calling despite their agreement and promises not to do it again, even if he tells her that if she hadn’t called he probably wouldn’t have known what was going on until Garcia checked on them. After four days, life gets back to its normal course; the team is called to Ohio on a case and for the first time he takes her grandfather’s revolver with him. He doesn’t believe in good luck charms or fate, but she does, despite the hour long rambling she sat through, when he explained how good luck is simply a matter of perception and the fact that all good luck charms and symbols are simply based on shared cultural consciousness. She says she doesn’t really care if it’s logical or not, it’s just something that she’s believed in for a long time and it never let her down.  
  
Then Colorado happens, where he and Prentiss are taken hostage by a cult. The guilt he feels due to Emily getting beaten to spare him is eating him inside; he knows already it will take a good long while to ease it and that it will probably lead him to a few meetings. He also feels guilty because, for the first time since he joined the Bureau, he worried as much for his own life as he did for his teammate’s. Before, he never really had anything to go home to, sure there’s the rest of the team and his mom, but it’s not the same; now there’s someone whose life is linked to his.   
  
When he joined the BAU, death wasn’t something that scared him, it’s simply a fact of life, that at some point, it ends; no one knows when or where, so why not make it a little magnificent and have it happen while trying to catch some awful murderer. There’s so many careers that he could have chosen and he went with the one with some of the highest risks of physical or psychological harm. Deep inside he knows there’s a part of mind, one that he doesn’t want to dwell on for too long in fear of what he might find, that probably pushed him to this job due, partially, to theses odds.   
  
As he runs out of the exploding chapel, he realizes that, for the first time in years, he is afraid of dying, afraid of not coming home; in that moment, he decides that it is time to bring both his lives together. No more hiding!  
  
And that’s how they got here, a week and a half later, at a pub in the city; he’s nervous and he tries his best not fidget. He takes a sip of his soda and turns to watch Prentiss winning a game of pool against Morgan who can’t seem to believe what just happened. Garcia and Kevin Lynch are dancing, or at least, Garcia is dancing and Kevin is attempting, without great success, to follow the beat. J.J. decided to come out with them, he wonders if it’s a safe idea given her situation, but he’s glad she’s there.  
  
His phone vibrates in his pocket and he excuses himself; the bar is too loud for him to hear anything and he has to step outside to take the call.   
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Hi! I just got off the subway and I’m almost there,” she says her voice a little hoarser than normal due to a lingering cold.   
  
“I’ll wait for you outside then.” He barely finishes his sentence before feeling two arms wrapping themselves around his waist, and the familiar touch of her body against his. He turns around without breaking her embrace and simply leans in to kiss her. She smiles up at him and takes his hand; he opens the door and step back inside, leading her toward their tables.  
  
Garcia spots them and smiles at them before whispering something in her date’s ear; Michelle nods in the blonde’s direction and gives a little wave. Derek and Prentiss are back by J.J.’s side; the tall man is busy flirting with the waitress as the girls roll their eyes. None the less, it’s his eyes that lock on their hands first and Reid wonders if he’s made the right decision.  
  
“Huh, guys,” his voice is a little high and he clears his throat. His three friends are staring him and he’s feeling uncomfortable; he glances at the pretty girl at his side, her eyes sparkling with affection. His entire demeanor gets more confident. “I’d like you to meet my Michelle... my girlfriend, Michelle.”  
  
Prentiss is the fastest to get up and introduce herself and starts asking her questions. Michelle smiles and happily answers to all of them; he’s glad she has an easier time with meeting people than he does. J.J. shakes Michelle’s hand as Morgan walks up to him and puts his arm around his shoulders.  
  
“Well kid! I have to say, I’m impressed; she seems nice and she’s cute too. Why’d you hide her from us for so long?”  
  
He’s saved from answering by Garcia who chooses that moment to walk back up to their group, pulling Kevin behind her.  
  
“Oh God, I’m so glad you guys decided to tell everyone, I was dying trying to keep this to myself!” She says, beaming.   
  
“Baby girl, you knew about this and you didn’t tell us?” Morgan’s surprise is written all over his face and his mouth actually falls open when Garcia mentions that she’s known for over a month and managed to keep it to herself.   
  
Michelle squeezes his hand to get his attention, she mentions she’s going to get herself something to drink and asks if he wants anything. He declines and watches her as she make her way through the crowd.  
  
“You’re in love, aren’t you?” Prentiss is standing next to him, a knowing smile on her lips. “We’re really happy for you, Reid, she seems like a great girl. She’s the reason you’ve been smiling more the last few months, isn’t she?”  
  
“Yes.” He finds himself replying to both questions with one word, and then the second question hits him. “Did it show?”  
  
“A little, from time to time, mostly at nights when we were all headed home or to our rooms.”  
  
He finally turns his head to look at her before adding: “We talk on the phone at night when we’re out of town on a case. It’s kind of the best part of the day.”  
  
Michelle walks back toward them, and Prentiss claps his shoulder before leaving them alone for some privacy. He can hear his teammate talking behind him but he doesn’t bother listening, he knows what they’re gossiping about. He’s glad all of this went so well, he wonders why he worried about it so much.   
  
“What’s going on in that big brain of yours, love?”   
  
He purses his lips and frowns a little before telling her he’s trying to figure out if it’s acceptable for him to kiss her in front of his team. She puts down her drink on the table next to them and pulls him into a kiss, right then and there, in front of everyone. His arms close around her waist, he can hear Morgan and Garcia catcalling behind them and he doesn’t care, right now, nothing matters but the facts that he is here with his friends and the woman he loves and that he’s happy.

 


	15. Dead Children, Leeches & Lies

He knew it would happen sooner rather than later but it still surprises him when the teasing and questioning start the next day; first it’s Derek with his ‘And beside you only have one name to remember!’ and then Prentiss asking him if he’s considering ‘having baby geniuses one day?’, question from which he is saved by Garcia’s call. In all honesty, he never thought about the possibility of having children; first of all, the idea of being in a relationship is still new to him and his brain is still adapting to those new perimeters, secondly, he always thought that his genetic too flawed and he wouldn’t want to burden a child with all the possible issues that is probably encoded in his DNA. It’s probably because of J.J.’s pregnancy, but he did catch himself thinking about it.  
  
During the next week, they fly to Vegas and the case brings with it a resurgence in one of his reoccurring nightmares; a boy, abused and killed, hidden behind the dryer unit in his own house. That dream has been haunting him for years; Morgan wakes him up, he’s been screaming in his sleep and woke up the parents of the kidnapped kid. He feels angry with himself and worried about his ability to work this case properly.  
  
He goes outside and sits on the porch, his long legs folded under the chair. He reaches for his phone; it rings a few times before she picks up. Her voice is tired, but he can tell she wasn’t sleeping even it is 3 am in D.C.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
“Hey, you’re up late, is everything okay?”   
  
She replies that could ask him the same question before adding that she hasn’t really been able to sleep when he’s on a case since New York. He figured as much, but didn’t really wanna pry.  
  
“What about you, Beautiful Boy? Is something keeping you awake tonight?”  
  
“Actually yes... you know, how sometimes I have those nightmares..?” He sighs as she acquiesces, of course she knows she’s witnessed them a few times already; one of the first nights she stayed over at his place, he woke her up by trashing around and talking in his sleep and that wasn’t even one of the really bad ones. “Morgan and I are staying the night at the second victim’s home and, well... I feel asleep on the couch... and...”  
  
“I see. How bad?”  
  
“Bad. It was that one dream about that dead kid in his basement but worst, for some reason, I was covered in leeches...” He passes his fingers through his hair, she mentions that she knows he doesn’t believe in dream analysis but maybe he should try and look into it.   
  
“You told me yourself that...” She lowers her voice to try and imitate his; he has to give her some credit on having his intonations down though. “’Freud has been discredited, but Jung still has his merits.’ Maybe giving it a shot might do you some good.”  
  
He agrees that maybe he should look into it, who knows maybe figuring out what his subconscious has been trying to tell him for the past 20+ years is a good idea.   
  
“Did you know that anxiety is most common emotion experienced in dreams, even in the ones we don’t remember, negative emotions are more common than positive ones.”  
  
“You must be feeling a little calmer, you’re back to rambling facts.” She says, laughing; she yawns and he tells her to try and get some sleep. “You’re probably right, you should do the same. Good night, Spencer.”  
  
“Good night, Mimi.”  
  
He hangs up; he knows he won’t be able to go back to sleep, but never the less, he rests his head against the back of the chair and looks up at the sky before closing his eyes, hoping his nightmares will leave him alone.  
  
The next day, he blames the lack of sleep for the hallucination he has at the funeral, the other possibility being to terrifying to even voice in his mind, but it leaves him with the certitude that is dream might be more than just that. That’s when Morgan tells him about Riley Jenkins and it feels like he already knows the entirety of the case before he’s done reading the file; every detail matches his dreams to a T.  
  
The case leads him to Bennington and while Dr. Norman checks with the other mental institutions in the area, he has a few minutes with his mom who, luckily, is having a good day. He asks her about Riley Jenkins and she tells him, he was nothing more than a story Spencer made up as a child. Somehow that doesn’t feel right, but it’s not something he can actually waste energy on right now, not when there’s a boy who might still be alive and needing help.  
  
He’s the last to arrive at the scene; he checks through the house as the team tries to talk down the UnSub in the yard. At the end of the hall, there’s a locked door. He carefully makes his way toward it; he unbolts the lock and pushes the door open. Little Michael Bridges runs toward him and he takes the boy in arms and leads him to safety.  
  
The parents arrive and he watches as they get reunited, this is normally one of his favorite parts of the job; when they manage to bring back a victim to their loved ones, alive. Today though the moment is darken by many questions about a boy he might or might not have known. Morgan tells him to just enjoy the moment and he tries.  
  
He spends the night at the Sanitarium with his mom in an attempt to ask her more questions but nothing comes of it, except the worst and most vivid version of his nightmare yet and that’s when he realizes; his father abused and killed Riley Jenkins.  
  
He hates lying to the team but he knows they’ll try to convince him to let sleeping dogs lie if he tells them about his theory. He calls Michelle at work, on his way to the police station, to let her know he’ll be staying in Vegas for a few extra days and she inquires if everything is all right. He tells her the truth, not because he trusts her more than his colleagues but because he needs to get it off his chest and he knows she will keep his secret.  
  
“Spencer, are you sure you want to go and dig into that? I know you’re angry with your father, I get it, I’m still angry with my mom for leaving my dad, but if you’re right, is this really something you want to put yourself through?”  
  
“I need to know the truth.”   
  
It frustrates him a little that she’s trying to talk him out of it. She sighs and says she has to get back to work and she’ll see him when he gets back.  
  
“Call me tonight, okay?”  
  
“I will.”  
  
Back from the station, with the files on the case, he finds Rossi and Morgan in his room; he can feel a frustration headache trying to make its way into his head. They want to help, but as he expected, they try to warn him not to continue down that path. They don’t understand that he doesn’t want to know, he needs to know; he needs those nightmares to stop and if that’s the way to do it, so be it.  
  
He talks to Bennington and learns a bit more about his father than what he can actually remember of him. As his mom mentions that he used to coach his little league team, his suspicion feels even more probable. After a while he tells his mom what he knows and, unsurprisingly, she actually thought Riley was just a story he made up.   
  
He and Morgan interviews Riley’s father and, unfortunately that doesn’t lead them anywhere regarding the case, but he does learn that all these years, his father was less than ten miles away and never even bother to come and see him. The embers of the anger he has had toward the man for all these years consume themselves into an actual fire, he manages to keep a straight face, but inside, he’s boiling!  
  
  
By the time they make it to Wieder, Kirschenbaum and Moore, his nerves are getting the best of him, he wonders if he is strong enough to do this; to see his father for the first time in seventeen years. He feels nauseous and goes to the bathroom; he splashes some water in his face, for a moment, he thinks he might pass out.   
  
He makes it back to the lobby, and there he is, face to face with his father. They’re lead into a conference room, and he can’t help but snap back when his father says he doesn’t look like him anymore. His father looks too calm, too unfazed and it makes everything even worst. When his father tells them to get a warrant if they want to look through his computer and files, he almost smirks, feeling finally justified.  
  
He gets Garcia to go through his father’s computer and as he enter his room, he finds an envelope on the floor with an handwritten note attached to it, a rap sheet regarding another suspect in the case. They’re discussing it when Garcia calls back with the results of her search.   
  
As he makes his way out of the hotel, massaging his temples, he wonders why his team, the people who have been his family for years now, don’t seem to get it. He doesn’t want his father to be a decent person, he needs him to be a monster because only a monster would abandon his 10 years-old son and his sick wife the way he did. His phone vibrates in his pocket, he checks the text message he just received: ‘I hope you find what you’re looking for. I love you, B.B.!’  
  
He smiles and passes his fingers over the screen, almost as if to caress the message; sometimes he wonders how it is that she can just tell when he needs a text like that. When he walks back in, Rossi and Morgan have left the lobby; he waits for them by wasting time at one of the video poker machine. Contrary to what people assume, he knows the woman talking to him is a prostitute, awkward boy growing up in Vegas you learn the signs pretty fast. He doesn’t really care one way or another to be quite honest, just talking to someone about something else than a dead boy or his father feels rather refreshing right now. He mentions hypnosis as a way to stop smoking and suddenly, he knows what their next move has to be.  
  
The hypnosis session leads to even more questions, he has to admit he’s glad Rossi stayed with him for it. He goes back to his mom again and pushes too far, causing her to have an episode; he can’t believe he just did that, this is just taking over his brain and making him act in a way he normally wouldn’t. He knows he’s not thinking straight when he barges into the Detective’s office demand his father be brought in for questioning nor is he thinking straight when he starts interrogating his father, but he wants answers, and he wants them now.  
  
He learns about Gary Michaels’ death through Morgan, and his faith in his suspicion wavers. No, it can’t be true, he has to be right on this one, he has to. The results of the finger print comes him, and his heart sinks when Derek tells him who it belongs to. Did his need for revenge lead to the destruction of someone’s life who has already suffered more than he should have?  
  
They arrest Lou Jenkins and still it feels like everyone is hiding something from him and he just want the truth. When his parents walk into the interrogation room, he can’t help but just blink at them, confused. They sit in Detective Hyde’s office and his mother tells him what actually happened; he can’t believe she went off her meds for him.  
  
His dad finishes the story and tells him the real reason why he left; it doesn’t make okay, or sooth the wound he had in him for all these years but at least, now he understand, he knows. He apologizes for everything; if he had to do it all again, he wouldn’t take back what happened but if he had the chance he would do it differently.  
  
They fly back to Quantico and make it to the hospital to meet baby Henry. J.J. and Will ask him to be his godfather, and he can hardly believe it. As he holds the infant in his arms, he makes a promise, mainly to himself; if he ever has children, he will never hide anything from them.


	16. Learn to Appreciate the Present

Months pass slowly, cases after cases; he’s not home much but when he is, he makes the most of it. Michelle stays most nights at his apartment when he is around and he has to admit, he really enjoys the routine they have established. He cooks and she takes care of the dishes. He remembers her being quite surprised, and impressed, the first time he cooked for her. It’s something he learned rather fast when his father left and his mother was in too bad a shape to even eat if he wasn’t pushing her to, so he started reading cooking books and trying things with what they had in the house, hoping that if it looked and smelled good his mom would eat it.  
  
After dinner they either watch a movie or marathon through some TV shows on DVD, they’re currently making their way through rewatching The X-Files, or he will read while she works on her computer, filing spreadsheets after spreadsheets with data about her customers or which products are the most popular. One evening while she’s hunched over her laptop, frowning with concentration as she enters the information for the last two days, he just puts down the government report (Bioterrorism, Chemical and Biological Defense, Research and Preparedness Activities) he was reading and watches her. She gives him a side glance and comments sarcastically that she knows there is nothing sexier than a girl filling an Excel sheet; he gives her his best attempt at a flirtatious smile and reminders her who she is talking to.  
  
They go out with the team a few times and he can hardly believe how easy it is for her to just take her place in a group of people; she gets along well with Garcia, Prentiss and, of course, Morgan who has that same almost uncanny (to him at least) ability. They even go over to Will and J.J.’s a few times for brunch; although Michelle did seem a little wary of J.J. after first meeting her. She made a comment that first night that he hadn’t told her his female colleagues are all very pretty, especially J.J., Derek later told him that replying to that with “I know. I actually asked her out a few years ago... It didn’t work out well, halfway through the afternoon I had to tell her it was a date. There’s definitely a pattern here, since J.J. actually looks a lot like Lila Archer, another girl I almost kinda dated.” was probably the worst thing he could have answered. Luckily, things got better after they talked about that situation a bit; she explained that her failed engagement did leave her with a few scars even if she doesn’t really want to admit it and that she does feel a little insecure about her looks and her intelligence compared to the other people he knows.  
  
The team still teases him a bit about her, less often than when they first learned about her existence, but sometimes when he calls her from the car on their way to the airstrip or texts her to let her know they’re on their way home, Morgan will just find something to do or say to poke a little fun at his expense. He doesn’t even mind anymore because the benefits of the team knowing about Michelle far overweigh the disadvantages.  
  
During those months, they celebrate six months together, which despite Garcia, J.J. and even Rossi’s explanations he still doesn’t really get why it’s celebrated but he still gets her a vinyl copy of her favorite album, David Bowie’s Ziggy Stardust, and she gives him a pocket watch which he becomes rather infatuated with. Hotch ends up having to tell him to keep it at home because he plays with it too much.  
  
They also face their relationship’s first little bump in the road. It’s his fault and he is quick to admit it; sometimes when they get really caught up in a long case, he sometime focuses so much on it that he partially loses the ability to differentiate between the days. He’ll think it’s Monday when it’s actually Wednesday. Unfortunately, a case like that came up near the end of March and when the team flies back to Quantico after being gone almost nine days, they decide to go for some Indian food, his weakness, and he decides to tag along. He calls her from the car, on the way to the restaurant and for some reason, she sounds distant, he rules it off as her probably being busy. When he stops by the Java Tree the next morning, she’s the same way and he starts to wonder if he might have offended her in some way. In the evening, he goes to her apartment and when he receives the cold shoulder again he asks her what’s going on, she asks if he knows what day it is. He wonders how that’s relevant to anything but none the less checks his watch and replies that it’s April 2nd, as his brain connects that information with her visible anger.  
  
“Yesterday was your birthday,” he finds himself uttering. How did he forget that? He was supposed to meet her at her favorite restaurant; was even the one to make the reservation. “Why didn’t you tell me when I called you?”  
  
“Because I had already been waiting at the restaurant for over an hour and I couldn’t bear to stay there any longer.”  
  
He considers himself incredibly fortunate that his girlfriend is resilient and by the time he heads off to work the next morning, everything is back to normal; he borrows her purple scarf, having forgotten his at his apartment the night before and he makes her laugh by mentioning that he feels like a knight carrying a token from his beloved. She calls him ‘Sire Spencer’ for a week after that. He keeps borrowing it from time to time and he’s especially glad to have something of hers with him when the team is called on disturbing cases like the abduction/necrophilia one they encounter in Olympia, Washington.  
  
After the case with Adam/Amanda, which leaves him feeling like he failed to save the younger man from his delusion, he finally tells Michelle about his mother’s situation, about the fact that schizophrenia is genetic and that one of the things he fears the most is to become like his mom. She asks him if that’s why he didn’t want her to meet his mom and he acquiesces, adding that he didn’t want to scare her away.  
  
“I’m... quite the catch, huh?” He said, with a joyless chuckle. “Socially incompetent ex-addict who might develop schizophrenia...”  
  
“Yeah that’s part of who you are, love, but you forget; incredibly caring toward the people close to you, ridiculously intelligent, interesting, sweet, courageous, attractive and a lot more!”  
  
And again he wonders what a girl like her is doing with a guy like him. She mentions that when, or if, he wants her to meet his mother, she’d be happy to. A few days later when he borrowed her laptop to look up something, he is not surprised to see multiple searches about schizophrenia in her search history; he can’t help but ask himself if it’s a good or a bad thing.  
  
He stirs as his text alarm wakes them up, he reaches over to the bedside table grabbling around for his phone. He checks the time before reading the message, 5:34 am.  
  
‘URGENT CASE. NO NEED FOR GO-BAG.’  
  
He groans as he untangles his legs from his girlfriend’s, she rolls over and looks at him as he starts rummaging through the armoire on the opposite wall. Her room is small enough that she can just reach out and grab his wrist, pulling him back toward the bed.  
  
“Stay with me just five more minutes.” She murmurs almost purring.  
  
“Michelle, I have to go. J.J.’s text says the urgent.” He sighs, she can be rather irresponsible sometimes. He removes his wrist from her grasps and finishes collecting his clothes.  
  
“You’ve been here five hours and I haven’t seen you all week, I think it’s kinda normal that I wish I could have a little more time with you.” She grumbles as she rolls over in bed, facing away from him.  
  
He makes his way out of the bedroom and into the bathroom; he quickly showers and get dressed, gathers his bag, shoes and jacket. Just before heading out, he pokes his head back into the bedroom.  
  
“I’ll call you as soon as we’re done. Good luck for today.”  
  
If Spencer could have predicted what would transpire in the next 24 hours, he would have stayed with her that extra five minutes.

 


	17. Holding On By a Thread

He arrives to work at the same time as Prentiss and Morgan; they ride the elevator together, the three of them wondering what kind of emergency case it might be to require them coming in before 7 am. They walk toward the BAU, and he frowns.  
  
“What’s the army doing here?” Asks Morgan behind him and he can’t help thinking this is a very bad sign.  
  
J.J. and Hotch are already in the briefing room when he walks in, along with a woman he doesn’t know. The first things he registers are their serious expressions and the cups of pills on the table. In his mind he goes through all the entire lists of all possible medicines that come in 500 ml oblong white tablets and would coincide with needing the army around; Ciprofloxacin. Definitely a very sign.  
  
The woman introduces herself as Dr. Kimura and says she wishes she was meeting the team under different circumstances. He fears the answer he will get but tries to keep his facial expression contained as he asks: “What circumstances?”  
  
J.J. explains what happened and he looks through the file in front of him; the symptoms are consistent with his suspicions but the time table is all wrong. When Derek inquires if it is, indeed anthrax they are dealing with, he comments that it doesn’t kill that fast.  
  
“This strand does,” says Dr. Kimura, obviously trying to keep her own worries under check.  
  
Prentiss asks about the precautions they’re taking and Hotch tells them about the media blackout. It’s for the best really, because scared people are more dangerous than any pathogens. He inquires about this specific strand; anything that can kill that fast needs to be dealt with safely as well as swiftly and with every single new answer the team gets more on edge.  
  
He is assigned to go to the hospital to interview the victims; they all take a large dose of Cipro, hoping it will keep them safe. He feels the antibiotic makes its way down his throat, wishful that they won’t have to rely on it.  
  
He grabs some files from J.J.’s office, verifying what has and what hasn’t been done to the victims trying to find a pattern as to why this strand is killing them so fast. He sits in Dr. Kimura’s vehicle, files on his laps, trying to take everything; his fingers moves quickly down the pages, there isn’t any discernible patterns that he can find which makes it impossible to extrapolate a theory.  
  
When they arrive to the hospital, they learn that another patient passed. Dr. Kimura checks with her staff to verify the state of each one of the remaining victims before leading him into the room where a girl named Abby is being treated. She’s probably ten years his junior but the lesions on her skin and sickish grey look of her skin make her look much older. He conducts a cognitive interview with her, until aphasia sets in rendering her unable to speak coherently.  
  
He’s never heard of anthrax causing that kind of a reaction in patients, he asks Dr. Kimura’s opinion on what might be reason for this and she tells him that it seems to be the last step of this strand before death. Nothing is working on the patients and all her team can do is try to make them comfortable before the end comes. This has to be the worst strand he’s heard of, and he hopes against hope that they will be able to save those people.  
  
Another one of the victims succumbs to the damages of the anthrax, the 17th of 25; the odds of saving any of them getting slimmer by the minutes. As the doctor explains the cause of death in more details, something falls into place in his head. This can’t be a first try, this strand has to have been tested before hand somewhere else.   
  
He calls the office after Dr. Kimura finishes checking with other E.R.s for sudden deaths that could have been caused by anthrax and explains his theory. It takes only an hour before the team finds the location of the first dispersion, during that time they lose four more people; Abby is still hanging on, but barely. He can’t help but think about Michelle, if something like this was to happen to her, he doesn’t know what he would do; a little voice in the back of his mind has been telling him all day to just sneak away for a second and call her to tell her to stay in.  
  
Morgan comes and picks him up at the hospital; he briefs him on Dr. Nichols as they head to his house. When they arrive there’s already a team inside checking for possible contamination, nothing seems out of the ordinary as they make their way toward the back entrance. He pricks his hand on a rosebush as he heads to the yard while Derek takes a call from Prentiss. He sees the patio door that seems to lead to a lab area and he pushes it open; he steps inside and the first thing he thinks is that it’s really unsafe to have the A/C blaring while working with some types of chemicals and that’s when he sees them, his entire body going into panic, broken vials on the floor spreading white powder into the air. Oh God, what did he just do...?  
  
He hears Morgan calling his name and his eyes jerk away from the powder at his feet; he sees Dr. Nichols on the ground who’s probably been dead for a few days, his head split opened with a blunt object; the lab animals died from the anthrax in the air. He catches a glimpse of Derek heading toward the door and he runs to slide it shut before his friend can enter and be infected too.   
  
“I’m sorry.” He says, softly. Derek doesn’t seem to understand why until he follows his gaze to the floor; he can see the other man’s face fall as he realizes what happened.  
  
His brain tries to bring up thoughts of Michelle and he fights it; he can’t think about her right now, he can’t let himself imagine even for a second that this morning was the last time he would be seeing her. Derek says something about calling Hotch and to hang in there, that they’ll get him out but it all sounds so far away. Why the hell did he rush into that house? Well, at least, this way he was the only one contaminated.  
  
He passes his fingers through his hair, there’s no time to waste; if he’s going to make it out of this alive, he needs to start looking for a cure, because no one would keep anthrax around their lab without having a cure around, right? He sure hopes that the Cipro he took earlier works.  
  
Hotch and the General arrive, he can see an ambulance and a hazmat team getting suited up through the window. His phone feels heavy in his pocket and he wishes he could hear her voice; he knows he can’t call, but it would make it easier to concentrate if he could just listen to her speak for a moment, since it always manages to calm down his frayed nerves. He needs to talk to her one last time. He has his phone in his hand and that’s when he reaches a decision; he won’t let this kill him, he has too much to live for now.  
  
He hits the speed-dial for Hotch’s number and they try to tell him that they’ll get him out, he tells them no, he’s staying here until he can find a way to save the other victims and himself. He hangs up and starts going through Nichols’ notes, no time to waste. He fixes in his mind his two main reasons to live, his mom and the woman he loves and he won’t let them down.  
  
Hotch calls back and he describes to him what he sees and that’s when he realizes that Nichols was working with someone else. He tells them to go back to the office and figure out who that might be, but Morgan won’t go. He knows the other man feels responsible for him getting contaminated; he would feel the same way if the case was reversed.  
  
He has a first cough and fear takes a hold of him. He calls Garcia and he feels like a pinching at his heart when he hears her voice. He tries to play it cool by asking why he’s not getting one of her trademark greetings, and she tells him how she can’t be herself when he is in the situation he’s in.  
  
“Huh... Garcia do you think you could do... something for me?” He asks, keeping his voice from breaking.  
  
“Anything.”   
  
“I, I know I can’t call my mom without...” He coughs, hopefully it’s due to the emotional toll of what he is about to do. “...alerting everyone at her hospital and I can’t call Michelle without her probably coming down here and try to pull me out herself.”   
  
He tries to laugh that last part off, for Garcia’s sake, make her less worried, but he’s pretty certain he fails miserably. She asks what he needs and he tells her, he just want to record a message for each of them in case anything happens. She tries to reassure him that nothing will happen to him that he will brilliantly save the day.  
  
“I hope you’re right, but, if you’re not, I just... really wanna make sure that... they hear my voice.”  
  
She tells him to give her a second, and after a few moments, he asks if she’s ready. He starts with the message for his mom, his voice already cracking.   
  
“Hi mom, this is Spencer. I just, huh, really want you to know that I love you... and, huh...” He chokes a little and clears his throat. “I need you to know that I spend every day of my life I’m proud to be your son.”  
  
He swallows hard and takes a deep breath, asking Garcia if she’s ready for the second message.  
  
“Yeah.” Her voice almost as shaky as his.  
  
“Hey Mimi, it’s me. I want to...” He pauses, he knows Garcia is listening and it makes it harder to get the words out. “...to say, I love you and, huh, that I’m sorry for not... huh, saying it often enough.” He breathes in and out, his eyes stinging. “Also, I, I want to thank you for... for... bringing more joy into my life than I, I ever thought possible.”  
  
He barely finishes the message when he hears movement outside; Penelope says his name on the other end, and he just has time to say he has to go and hang up before Dr. Kimura walks in her hazmat suit. He tries to joke around a little; he can tell his breath is getting shorter as he asks about the patients. The doctor offers to give him pain medication which he wholeheartedly refuses; he will take pain over relapse any day. She questions his decision and he snaps at her, he needs to get that point across.  
  
He explain how to start trying to find the cure which he sincerely hopes is hidden somewhere in this lab when his phone rings. His throat hurts and breathing is getting painful, this isn’t good. Morgan asks how he’s doing and he answers truthfully that he’s seen better days. He feels weak when Derek tells him that Rossi and Prentiss can’t find the partner in any of Dr. Nichols’ colleagues; he tries to focus on finding out more about the mystery man and not on tightening in his throat which seems to get worst with every passing minutes.  
  
He wipes off the sweat from his forehead as Garcia checks Ph.D.s students; when she comes up empty-handed he almost swears. They need to find who that man is before he infects more people; he can’t let anyone else feel the same kind of pain he is feeling because he’s not thinking straight.   
  
They find a potential suspect and Dr. Kimura locates what could be the hidden cure they’ve been looking for which is good because his lungs are getting exponentially more painful with each breath.  
  
They get him into the decontamination tent and start the process. He unsuccessfully tries to get Morgan to leave, hoping that not seeing the state he is in would lessen his friend’s guilt but the other man insists in seeing him off to the hospital; fortunately, he allows him to keep a little modesty and leaves the tent before he has to undress.   
  
“I hope you’re right about this!” Says the doctor referring to the cure in the inhaler, as he undoes his tie.  
  
“So do I.”   
  
That’s when she asks if he cut himself, he looks down and sees the black necrosis on the back of his left hand. He can feel his heart rate increasing as he thinks back to earlier when he pricked his hand on the rose bush. How can he have been that careless and not have at least tried to protect the cut from the spores with the first aid kit he saw in the lab.   
  
They rush him into the ambulance, his cough won’t let go and he can feel warm liquid in his throat; he doesn’t need the iron taste to know it is blood. The oxygen in his nose seems to help, he’s a little less light headed but it burns when it reaches his lungs.   
  
Dr. Kimura asks how the pain is and he lies, replying that his throat is a little dry but otherwise he feels phi... he feels thin... he feels... He tries to articulate the word but it doesn’t work. Why isn’t it working, well, he knows the reason but he’s not ready to accept that. This can’t be really happening. He’ll get through this right?   
  
He hears Dr. Kimura tell the driver to go faster, she’s trying to keep her face calm and peaceful but he can see in her micro expressions that she’s not sure he’s going to make it. He closes his eyes; he feels the blood make its way up his throat again. He hears the doctor’s voice, but it sounds so far away, mention something about pulmonary distress.   
  
He has one last conscious thought before blacking out: ‘I am actually dying.’  
  
It’s much to his own surprise when he opens his eyes, squinting against the harsh light and the white walls. Derek is sitting there reading a magazine laid out on the bed by his legs, he’s eating something red from a small cup.  
  
“You’re eating Jell-O?” Spencer asks, trying to sit up while Morgan calls in Dr. Kimura. “Is there anymore Jell-O?”  
  
He asks what happened, the entire thing a little fuzzy in his brain. Derek says they got Brown and he inquires about Abby and the other victims and why Dr. Nichols was making anthrax in the first place as the other two answer, his nose catches a familiar aroma; he looks down at the chair next to Morgan’s and sees a grey military style jacket that he knows only too well. His friend catches his glance.  
  
“Your girl is just down the hall getting some coffee. We’ve both been here since last night.”  
  
“What did you tell her?”  
  
“Just said you were in the hospital and figured I’d let you decide what you want her to know.”  
  
Almost as if on cue, Michelle walks in; her eyes tearing up when she sees him and he can tell she cried a few times recently. Her eyes are red and puffy; her hair sticking out in multiple directions and her nose shows signs of irritation from repeated uses of hospital tissues.  
  
“Hey Doc, what do you say we give these two a little privacy?”  
  
As they leave the room, Michelle thanks Derek before walking toward the bed. He smiles at her and she sniffs in before doing the same.  
  
“How are you feeling?” She asks as she stands next to him, taking his bandaged left hand in hers.  
  
“I’m feeling okay, actually.” And it’s true; sure his lungs and throat feel raw but he can think and articulate and above all, he’s alive!  
  
Her voice cracks when she tells him how scared she was and tries to joke about him giving her white hair before her time, but the comedic affect is lost in the tears streaming down her face. He asks her to close the door and after she does he reveals to her why he is actually here; her eyes widen as he speak and when he’s done, she doesn’t say anything, she just bends down and carefully wraps her arms around him. They stay like this for a long moment, both of them just happy to be together.  
  
“How did the presentation go?” He asks after a while, hoping to lighten the mood a little. A downtown store called her a week earlier wanting to carry her products, they asked her for a meeting to explain how that would work. “Are they going to carry your products after all?”  
  
She shakes her head no, and says she didn’t make it to the meeting. He’s confused, this sounded like a dream come true for her, something she has been working toward for years; it was all she could talk about over the last week and she didn’t go.  
  
“Why? I, I thought it was supposed to be the ‘opportunity of a lifetime’.”  
  
“Because,” she says, pushing a strand of hair from his eyes, “as I walked out of my apartment, Derek called me and said something happened to you and that you were here and there was no doubt in my mind that this is where I needed to be.”

 


End file.
